


Define Ploin Shaped

by strange_glow



Series: Virus [3]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Humor, Insanity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_glow/pseuds/strange_glow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Broken Strings AU story line; a what if Kudoh Youji was actually a missing member of Esset’s crew of paranormals.  If you haven't read Broken Strings, or Tokyo Slide, this will make no sense.  I'll come up with a name for the series later.  This is an AU fanfic so don't expect cannon or much established fannon.  </p><p>Time line setting: Somewhere between in the Schrient arc, from ep 8 and on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

 Chapter One 

“There’s something creepy about those women,” Yuuji said after a swallow of beer.  “Teppanyaki, Brad?  Does Takatori know he’s paying for this?

“It’s business, therefore it’s an expense.” Brad stated.  “Maybe you’re just not used to having the ‘weaker sex’ beat the crap out of you.  And I suspect, more to the point—,” Brad pointed at him with the hand holding his own bottle, “they don’t even find _you_ interesting, let alone the wet panty bait you seem to think you are.”

“Know I am,” Yuuji corrected.  “No woman is immune to Kudoh Yohji, international man of mystery,” he added in his ‘sexy voice’.

“You smell like fertilizer.  Maybe that has something to do with it,” Schuldig said before stuffing another helping of teppanyaki beef into his mouth. 

“You said emergency meeting, and it’s not the easiest drive out here,” Yuuji shrugged, “I didn’t have time to take a shower and change,” he snagged a piece of meat off the grill for himself and dipped it in his sauce dish before putting it in his rice bowl to load up his sticks.  “Someone has to do the work of being a potted plant merchant.  You know what scares me?  I’m actually starting to get a real feel for the business.  High end companies and hotels pay a fortune to have their plants rotated with the seasons.  I’ve gotten six more clients this month just by chatting up the—,” he paused and looked at Brad.  “Well, you know, business is business.”  He filled his mouth and hoped it would be an excuse for not continuing this conversation. 

Brad’s eyes had narrowed alarmingly, like when he was planning on shooting someone.  “And Weiss?” he said coolly.

“Aya is being Aya, still obsessing over killing your ‘boss’’. And still as sexually frustrated as ever,” he set his sticks and bowl down for a moment to look at Brad.  “Seriously, this dating thing; not working.  He’s getting worse.  It’s like living with the wicked witch of the west.  He keeps snapping pencils and his temper is out of control when it comes to Hidaka. I had to stop them from killing each other twice this week.  Nearly lost a kidney,” he turned half way in his seat and pulled up his t-shirt to expose a set of four nasty scratches.  “Kiss my boo-boo,” he pouted at Brad.

Schuldig snorted.  “That’s nothing.  You should see the mess we had to mop up of Farfarello.  If we don’t switch next time, he’s going to kill Hidaka, orders or not.  It’s like he _wants_ to toss himself in to a chipper shredder, just to show it who’s boss when his bones jam the mechanism.  Lunatic.”

“But I _always_ fight _you_ ,” Yuuji protested mildly.  “We can’t change the pattern now, someone will suspect.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Crawford said, realizing that when it came to Sarazawa, this should be tattooed on the other arm.  “Schuldig is right.  Next time I’ll sic Jei on Aya, and Schuldig can handle Hidaka.  _I’ll_ deal with you.”

“Why Brad, are you flirting?” Yuuji purred. 

“Impressionable child here,” Nagi reminded them, handing over his empty dish to the waitress in exchange for another one of mixed tempura vegetables.  “Please don’t make me puke.  This is too good a meal to ruin.  For a change,” he shot Brad a cold look. 

“I kept my promise, didn’t I?” Brad said.  

“Bribe, you mean.  I still like her,” Nagi said stubbornly. 

“Get over it!” Brad growled.

Nagi rolled his eyes and ate his tempura.

“Seriously, Brad, let the kid have his fun,” Yuuji said. 

Schuldig nearly choked on his beer and coughed up a half swallow before he drowned it in.  Eyes watering and red faced he looked at the blond.  “Do you even _know_ what you are talking about?  He’s mooning over that nut job in the pink tutu in Shrient!”

Yuuji blinked, blank faced suddenly.  “Seriously?” 

Nagi sulked.  “She’s cute. I never get to have any fun.”

“You get to rob mutual funds and destroy corporations with industrial espionage!” Brad protested, quietly just in case anyone was listening.  “Name _one_ kid your age who can do that with, let alone the whole—“ he wiggled his fingers like a magician act—“thing.  You’re having so much fun, you should be in an ultra max prison.”  He sat back and drained his bottle then set it down next to the three other empties.  “Trust me, women are not fun.”

Again with the eye rolling.  “Coming from you,” Nagi shot Schuldig and Yuuji a scathing look as well, then met Brad’s eyes again, “that means nothing.” 

“Ouch,” Yuuji said, sipping his own beer. 

“ _You_ tell him,” Brad said toward Yuuji, then catching the waitresses eyes, he did the finger circling thing over the table for more food and beer.  “Tell him what women are like.”

“Seriously?” Nagi asked Brad.  “You’re asking me to look up to a man-whore for advice on women?”

“Girls, Nagi.  You’re not old enough for women yet,” Schuldig said. 

“Where do you get off insulting me like that, you little weasel?” Yuuji was amused.  “Christ, Brad, what a rotten example you are.  When are you going to get Mini-you here fitted for a pair of glasses?  Why the bunny girl anyway, Naoe-kun?”

Nagi pouted a little, stirring a batter covered shrimp in the sauce a little too long.  “She’s just—sparkly, that’s all.” He blushed.

“And he calls _me_ gay,” Brad said dryly.  “I suppose partially it is my own fault.  After all, look at what he’s exposed to day in and out.” he sat back as the waitress doled out more bottles of beer and set down another platter of sliced meat.  “But _that_ little fiend is not a girl,” he insisted.  “Look, see those,” he pointed out the window.  “Why can’t you be attracted to nice normal girls, like those two.”

Yuuji had a look.  “Cute enough, and without all the added glitz of being psychotic murderers.”

Nagi looked and scowled at the cut of the uniforms.  “Those are _high school_ girls.” 

Yuuji lowered his sunglasses and looked again at the two girls walking by with lacross sticks and book bags.  “High school?  They’re getting younger and younger these days.”

“ _No,_ Sarazawa-san, _you’re_ getting _older_ ,” Nagi stated.

Brad looked puzzled, watching the two girls stop and looking in concern at something in the street below the window ledge level. 

They were frowning and talking, body language tense, watching the street; then suddenly the darker haired one dashed out, lacross stick held high, into traffic just as the light changed, and swung! 

“ _Jesus H. Christ_ ,” Brad stated in blunt English as a black cat went flying into the bushes to the sound of screeching brakes and car horns. 

“Oh, mein gott, that was so cool!” Schuldig said, having stood up to witness the whole thing. 

“ _High school_ _girls,_ ” Nagi repeated, putting another slice of meat on the grill.  “To them, I’m a baby.”

Schuldig was still gawking, then he sighed.  “No one got killed,” he sat down again.  “Lucky black cat.”

Yuuji was looking at Brad.  He still had a very peculiar look on his face.  “Brad?”

“I change my mind. That one has crazy cat lady written all over her future,” Brad said, gulping down more of his beer. 

“Talent still acting up?” Yuuji asked, throwing more meat on the grill with the serving sticks. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Brad shook his head a little as if to clear it.  “Anyway, Takatori Reiji has gone full paranoia mode since Masafumi ended up in a tank.  And Hirofumi is pushing the limits of _anyone’s_ tolerance.  I’m beginning to think Shuuichi is the black sheep of that family.  He probably became a cop just to rebel.” 

“Omi’s not exactly far from the tree,” Yuuji stated grimly.  “Kid’s so desperate to have someone to be loyal to, he’s liable to turn on anyone for whoever gives him a chance.  Leave him alone for a while, Shu-chan; cut the kid some slack.”

“Un-unh, not while that little bitch is trying to nail him,” Schuldig said.  “You keep him away from Ouka, I’ll cut him some slack. Until then, he’s part of my evil plan to make her life a misery.” 

“How mature of you,” Yuuji said, scathingly.  “

“Trust me, she’s no innocent,” Schuldig informed him.  “She’s more of a Takatori than your little poisoner  is.  She makes the Betta Theta Chi sorority at Rosenkruez look like a bunch of meek little Cinderellas.  I want to kill her.” 

“You want to kill everyone,” Nagi reminded him. 

“Especially her,” Schuldig said. 

“Thus destroying your theory that frequent sexual relief cures homicidal tendencies,” Brad said mildly, turning over the meat on the grill. 

“Maybe Naoe can date her and get her off Omi’s back?” Yuuji suggested.

“Fuck you!” Nagi blurted out. 

Brad swatted him upside the head lightly with the back of his hand, “Manners.”

“And we both know where he got that from,” Yuuji told Brad.  “The sooner this whole ritual thing is settled—”

“The sooner we’ll be in much deeper shit before things will be better, so let’s not rush matters,” Brad said, wiping his fingers on his napkin and pulling up his sleeve to look at his watch.  “We’d better wrap this up and get back to Tokyo.  Shrient goes; no more questions.  Masafumi’s experiments are a failure and Helle was kept in the dark on too much of his work to be able to continue it.  Esset wants them wiped.  Make sure that lab goes up in flames.”

“Easy for you to say,” Yuuji told him.  “Aya’s not big on the whole cleaning up the mess thing.  I think he thinks the fairies come carry away the bodies before the forensics team goes in.  And I’m not so sure I want to be mixing all those volatile chemicals in there without being able to control the blast.”

“Which is why I’m depending on you,” Brad informed him.  “Cover your ass on this, and Esset will think again about your usefulness.  At least they’ve stopped nagging me about killing you.  They don’t like it, but right now, I’m what they have in Tokyo.  Questioning my plans is double checking themselves.  Play nice, and I _might_ even get you your back pay.”

“That would take a miracle,” Yuuji grumbled. 


	2. Two

“This whole thing stinks,” Aya was saying back at the flower shop.  “First they don’t give us enough information to go on, then they shrug  off that it was one of Takatori Reiji’s sons like it was nothing.” He had the wet stones on the kitchen table, set in the wooden holder, so that he could run the blade across in smooth single strokes. He was holding it up to check the scratch pattern each time, aiming for perfection.   

Yuuji, back in Yohji persona, winced as the light from the window sparked off the edge of the blade.  “I don’t think he was protecting him, Aya.”

“No one was protecting us, that’s for certain.” Aya said, intent on his work.

“Doesn’t that wear them down eventually?”

“Eventually,” Aya slid the blade over the stone again.  “But katana aren’t meant to cut plants with.  The fibers dull the blade more than flesh does.”

“Have you ever considered a gun?” Yohji asked mildly, leaning on the door frame and crossing his arms.  

“Guns are for cowards,” Aya stated.  “And what difference is there between your wire and my blade?”

“Low maintenance for one thing,” Yohji laughed a little.  “Besides, what if you come up against some ‘Indiana Jones’?”

Aya held the blade up again, examining it. “Not being boastful and a show off, like some people, I’d probably just slice his hand off at the wrist.”  The blade flashed and the strings of Yohji’s lace up t-shirt drifted to the floor.

Yuuji felt his balls retract up as far as they could possibly go without fighting each other for entrance back into his pelvis.  He forced himself to resume the breath he’d been in the middle of taking, but he didn’t dare try to say anything until he felt his vocal cords un-tense.  It wouldn’t do to come out with a very un-cool squeak at this point. 

Aya laid the sword down and picked up the stone to dry it on a towel and set it with the others back in the case.  He gave Yohji a speculative look. 

“You owe me a new leather cord,” Yohji said pulling on the too short remaining string.

“You never tie it.  Do without,” Aya stated, picking up the wooden holder to set it on the back step to dry in the shade. 

 “The point is not to tie it, the point is to have it there not to tie, it’s the design,” he plucked at the front of his shirt.  “You’re overlooking the esthetic of the designer’s intent.”

 “Go get some twine from the shop,” Aya picked up the big damned sword again and took a chamois out of the case to wipe down the blade. 

“Aya, are you trying to start a fight?” Yohji asked him seriously.

“I was sharpening my sword until you decided to bother me with your nonsense.” He held the end of the blade up at Yohji’s throat level again.  “Kritiker is making some very odd mistakes, don’t you think?” 

Yuuji ran his hand over the arm with the watch on it, rather nervous. 

Aya’s eyes flicked to the watch, then he moved sharply, in closer, the blade now whisper close to ‘Yohji’s’ jugular vein.  “Nervous, Kudoh?”

“Very,” Yuuji stated.  “In fact, if I were a Takatori, I’d have pissed myself by now.  Acting just a little more than the usual amount of crazy, Aya-kun,” he warned, keeping his tone very, very neutral.

Aya focused on the patch of skin bared by the falling open neck of Yohji’s t-shirt. He plucked at the remaining cord and drew it out, tossing it over his shoulder, and looked into Yohji’s eyes.  Then he put his bare hand flat on the skin there, and let it rest, the heavy sword rock steady in the other hand. 

“Um—Aya…I thought we agreed, no more funny stuff.”

“Who’s laughing?” Aya asked.

Yuuji weighed the probabilities.  Either way, he was dead. Again.  Still, if he tried to put up a fight, maybe?  “I thought you were getting along so well with that detective, what’s-his-name.”

“He’s not you,” Aya stated.

“What’s so great about me?” this time, he did nearly squeak.  Almost.  A little.  “Aya, seriously—Mmmmph!”

Once again, he found himself on the receiving end of a very determined Aya.  And yeah, he wasn’t anyone else, either.  His kiss was ripe and fulsome, a tenderness behind the fierce attack. 

Aya took advantage of his being in shock to grab the front of the shirt and slice the katana down it, then tossed the sword on the table. He used both hands now to pull the fabric down off Youji’s shoulders and pressed those lips to his bared collar bone. 

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Yohji said, pretty much conceding the battle by now anyway. 

Aya responded to that by cupping his hand over the growing problem  in Yohji’s pants.  “How much do I have to rub to get my wish?” he met the man’s eyes daringly. 

Okay, so part of it _was_ his fault.  He’d learned early enough to keep track of it, make excuses, fend people off, put the burden of it on them with practiced finesse; but that only worked when you had the upper hand to start with.  When a firm “not interested” would send the amorously inclined into an embarrassed retreat.  When you got in and got out of a mission before the complications of day to day contact built up.  But Aya was already on the cracked side, and Yuuji knew by now that embarrassed or not, he was rabid enough to not give a damn what happened as long as he got what he wanted. 

Yuuji caught him by the shoulders, “Aya!”

Those eyes focused on him, sullen, angry. 

“Seriously?  The kitchen?” Yuuji asked.

Aya caught him by the arm and half dragged, half pushed him up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind them and locking it.

“Hey, guys? What’s going on?” Ken called up the stairs, having heard the scuffling. 

Aya pulled his own shirt off and threw it on the floor, breathing hard. 

“Count to ten, Aya, that’s all I’m asking!” Yohji held up his hands in self defense. 

“Two, Four, Six, Ten,” Aya stated, and launched at him.

“You cheated,” Yohji protested as he was tackled onto the narrow twin bed and straddled.  “Aya, think of your sister!”

“That’s a dirty move,” Aya accused, smacking him down again with a thump on the chest and pulling at the buckle of his belt.  “But I’ve been holding back for three weeks now, and you’re still right there in front of me.  And every time we go out on a mission, and one of us nearly gets killed, I keep thinking, one more thing I’m going to regret for the rest of my life, if I don’t do it.  I want you, Yohji.  I want to fuck you.  And if this is what it takes, then so what?”

“Don’t I get any say in this?”

“No,” Aya kissed him again.  

 

An hour later, Yuuji lay there and thought maybe he wanted a cigarette after all.  The body on his arm, the soft dark auburn mop against his cheek, the sound of Aya’s breathing; there, and un-deniable wrong in this picture, and it had him so damned confused.  He was certain he didn’t _love_ Aya, not the way he felt for Brad, but something was there.  A need of some kind.  Aya was hurt and hurt bad, and the mess he was in wasn’t going to be easy to get out of on his own.  Like all of Kritiker’s damaged kids—for Aya had been what, sixteen, seventeen, when they’d cornered him?—there was something that needed answering for. 

He wrapped his other arm around the tight, slender body and held him closer.  After a moment he drew in a deep slow breath and let it out.  “I’m sorry, Aya,” he said softly.  “I’m sorry things are so screwed up for you.”

“Just shut up,” Aya ordered.

Yohji smiled a little and gave him a squeeze.  Brad was going to kill him.  But at least it would be a clean shot.

 

*        *        *

 

“Now what?” Schuldig asked, a stressed frown accompanying his concern.

Brad shook his head, eyes on the laptop screen.  He was scanning the news for any signs of where Masafumi and his crew had going to ground.  Disappearances, strange sightings, a trail of crypto-botany if not zoology?

Not that it helped much to take his mind off his real problem.

“No, you’ve shut down so much, all I’m getting is that annoying high key buzzing noise again.  What’s gone wrong now?”

“Nothing of any importance.”

“Mt. Fuji isn’t going to blow and it’s no use even trying to bug out because we have no time?” Schuldig said, draping his arms loosely around Brad’s shoulders from behind, looking at the computer screen.

“Nope,” Brad said.  Perhaps the missing persons records?  He typed in the codes for the local police data bases Nagi had snagged for him.  Another problem.  The kid was just as concerned with finding that lunatic girl.  How could he convince him that ‘sparkly’ was not one of the enduring traits to build a relationship on.  Good breeding, stable genetics, self control, intelligence, and most importantly; money.  Not to mention the potential for sane off spring—but not ‘sparkly’.

“Zzzz zzzz zzz,” Schuldig said into his ear, then slid his arms back off to squeeze Brad’s shoulder muscles.  “You need a good massage.”

“Not now, Schuldig,” Brad said, not as curtly as he might have. 

Again the arms surrounded him, a wave of copper red crashing into his peripheral vision.  “How dare you make me worry about you.  Might I remind you that Esset frowns on team members who let their personal flaws interfere with other team member’s loyalty to the cause.” Fingers trailed his cheek.  “Put aside weak emotions and senseless desires, and steel yourself to the mission at hand.”

Brad had to smirk.  “That being?”

“Braaaaiiinnnnssss….” Schuldig stuck his tongue in Brad’s ear and made slurping noises. 

“Stop that!” Brad laughed, pulling away to look at him over his shoulder.   “Now who’s interfering with the mission?” he wiped at his wet ear with his handkerchief. 

“Speaking of zombies, isn’t this Weiss’ problem?” Schuldig said, all business again, except that he wasn’t letting go that easily.  “I thought we were going after Hirofumi?”

Brad frowned, then sighed and took his glasses off to rub an eye tiredly.  “Masafumi is the more dangerous one.  If he dumps that crap into a water supply, the whole world is going to go to hell.”

“I’m not so sure he’d do that,” Schuldig said after a moment’s thinking.  “I’ve picked up a few stray thoughts along those lines when we were ‘visiting’ with the old man the other day.  He’s after immortality, I don’t think he wants to share.”

“If being a plant-monkey makes you immortal, then I’ll pass,” Brad shut the laptop down. 

“So?” Schuldig looked up at him as he stood up.  “What’s really bothering you?”

“I’d rather think it over on my own first,” Brad put his arms around the red head’s waist and drew him closer.  He had a good look at what he had.  Maybe there was something to be said for ‘sparkly’ after all. 

Schuldig smiled fleetingly, a bit confused.  “What was that?” he asked seriously.

“Something like a decision,” Brad admitted, and kissed him on the nose.  “Stay out of my head, you fiendish telepath.  Let’s go see what Hirofumi is up to.”


	3. Chapter 3

“The brain washing is coming back,” Yuuji said, dropping on to the couch and picking up a throw pillow to maul with restless hands.  “I keep slipping, losing myself,” he frowned. 

Brad poured him a scotch over ice from the bar cart and handed it to him, eyes guarded behind the thin lenses of his glasses. 

Yuuji sipped the booze and set it on the coffee table, then looked up at him.  “Go ahead, yell at me.  Get it over with, but then we deal with my problem, okay?”

Brad moved to sit down on the opposite couch.  “I think your problem is more important than mine right now.”

Yuuji eyed him more carefully.  “You’re  _really_  mad, aren’t you?” 

Brad settled back and crossed one leg over the other, fingers plucking at the arm of the sofa.  “I think I’m beyond mad now, but as you said, your conditioning is trying to re-assert itself, and that could be a contributing factor to this little ‘problem’ of yours.”

“So.  Have Schuldig fix me.”

Brad had a premonitory flash of box cutting knives and other instruments of torture.  “No, I think we need to go about this a little less organically.  Could it have been triggered by the lab explosion a few weeks ago?  Surely you’ve blown things up before in the past two plus years.”

“Not this big,” Yuuji said, mangling the pillow some more. “If it’s even that. Maybe if it had knocked me out for a short while, or I had another memory loss it would make sense; but I’m pretty sure I can remember everything about getting out of there.  Outside of a few bruises and wounded pride, it wasn’t that traumatic.  It’s crazy, but it’s been nagging at me. I  think I  _recognized_ one of Shrient from before.  The one with the helmet thing?  I got it off her.  She sounded—and looked—like Asuka.” He frowned at himself.  There was a burden of emotions that went with that, not his, and unwanted, but there.

“Asuka?” Brad said.  “This is the woman you thought you were—attached to?  The one they programmed you on?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji said, looking at him forlornly.  “I know it’s all fake, but I can’t seem to get rid of it.  You’d think strangling her to death in self defense would have cured that.”

Brad’s eyebrow raised momentarily as he considered briefly how insane everything was, then he pulled himself back into the present. “Kritiker had nothing on Shrient?”

“Not a thing,” Yuuji stated.  “We have orders, but no intel.  Just ‘find them’.  And, we blew up the lab, so what ever Masafumi had must have gone, too.  Omi can’t find anything on line.”

“Nagi hasn’t pulled up anything past his college records either. And not a hit on facial recognition, which doesn’t work so well on Asiatics as it does on Europeans.  Too bad.  If we had something, anything, to back track her identity on, we might have found out why Kritiker used her as your focus,” he paused.  “But I don’t think that matters, Yuuji.   _You_  know Kudoh Yohji is not real.“

“What if ‘he’ becomes real?  What if I lose control of it, and he takes over again?”  He set the half destroyed throw pillow aside and slid down on the cushions to rest his head on the back of the sofa and close his eyes.  “I wish to hell I could just walk away from this.  Just say, “Hey guys, guess what?   _I’m the enemy!_  Ha-hah, fooled you!  Buh-bye”.” 

“I’m so sure that will take care of Fujimiya,” Brad said dryly.  “Looks like you’ve got a crazy stalker.”

“This is not a case of me thinking with my dick, Brad Crawford, so don’t go lecturing me,” Yuuji didn’t open his eyes. 

“What is it, then?”

“I feel like crap,” he sighed.  “You thought I was dead, Schuldig came along and mopped up, and here I am, making a mess of things again.”

“Blaming yourself for something you had no control over.  And no, wiping your mind and leaving you there is not an option.  Sooner or later, things would only go a hell of a lot worse for you than if you remained your true self.  Stop trying to take the easy way out.  Besides, you’re assuming I was a mess, aren’t you?”

“Weren’t you?”

“For a week or so, it was bitter.  But then, Esset trains us not to form attachments for a reason.”

“And you were always the soul of reason,” Yuuji muttered in irritation.

Brad got up and stepped around the coffee table to look down at him.  Then he knelt on one knee on the sofa to put his hands on the back of the sofa and kiss the blond. 

Yuuji sighed again and reached up to hold onto him, responding with a hell of a lot more than lust in mind. 

Brad took off the glasses that were getting in the way and held them over the back of the sofa to kiss him a few more times, then just held onto him.  “So this is not being too attached, not getting too involved,” he murmured. 

“What are we going to do?” Yuuji nuzzled his throat, a hand caressing the other side.

Brad put his glasses back on, not really focusing on anything in particular.  “When Esset is gone, we deal with Kritiker.”  
          “I mean about  _us_!” Yuuji’s hand grasped Brad’s shirt over his shoulder and gave him a bit of a thump on it. 

Schuldig and Farfarello were back.  Brad heard the keycard beep in the lock, but wasn’t inclined to move.  He met Schuldig’s eyes as he came through the door.  Schuldig stopped and stood still a moment, looking back, then closed the door and locked it to lean back on. 

Brad ran his fingers into Yuuji's hair and kissed him on the top of his head, then drew away slowly, standing up and smoothing down his shirt.  “Any news?”

“Oh, Hirofume’s nuts,” Schuldig said.  “Takatori’s talking killing them all and starting all over again.  Of course, leaving out little miss precious as part of that plan.  Masafumi?”

“Nothing come to light, yet,” Brad said.  “Farfarello, dismissed,” he ordered mildly. 

Knowing when to make himself scarce, Jei headed for his room.  He didn’t need more crazy than what was going on in his own head. 

“Problems?” Schuldig asked, taking off his coat and hanging it up in the closet. 

“When are there not?” was Brad’s response.

Schuldig pulled the yellow bandana off his head and fluffed up his hair, looking at Brad.  “Did you eat?”

“A while ago.”

“We stopped at Mos Burgers on the way back, so that’s taken care of.  Nagi in?”

“Grounded,” Brad said.

Schuldig walked over to look down at Yuuji from behind him.  “And you? What are you doing here?  Shouldn’t you be out with the rest of the flower shop boys?  Takatori Hirofumi is rounding up  _kids_  to play hunt the human with.”

Yuuji put his hands over his face then drew them down slowly.  He started to get up. “He’s right, I should be—.”

“Stay,” Brad said.  “Let Persia deal with this.  After all, it is the job of the police to protect citizens, is it not?  Why is he hiding behind a bunch of broken and brain washed people in a private cadre?”

“Simple,” Schuldig stepped over the sofa and slid down it to sit beside Yuuji.  “He’s a Takatori.  He is the one who’s big idea it was to have you brain washed, you can bet on it.” The ice in Yuuji’s glass of scotch clinked as it melted.  “You and Tsukiyono, and quite a few other members of the network.  To the point of suicide in  most cases so watch yourself.  My guess is Fujimiya’s trapped enough, with his sister in their hands.  No need to alter his thinking.”

“Trapped,” Yuuji said.  “That’s it.  They have his sister, why bother.  Sure, she’s in a coma in the hospital, but she’s as good as in their hands.  And, comas can be induced.”

“Of course they can,” Brad said, pacing the floor.  “Let me bring you up to speed,  _Sarazawa._ Esset has somehow determined that little miss Fujimiya Aya— her brother assumed her name, his own being ‘Ran’—is the perfect host for the ritual.  Naturally, I have no idea why; why tell me? After all, I’m just a glorified upper management clerk with a gun.  However, if the sister has some hidden talent that makes her so perfect, what about the brother?” he turned to look down at Yuuji again.

“Oh, I think we all know what his talent is,” Schuldig looked at Yuuji coolly. 

Yuuji frowned.  “How would I not notice that?”

“I meant that as an insult,” Schuldig stated, tossing his bandana on the coffee table and stealing the wilting scotch.  “Getting lucky?” he offered as an afterthought.

“I’m confused.  Is that an insult or a word of praise?” Yuuji looked at him. 

“Sa-ra-za-wa,” Brad enunciated each syllable to get his attention again.  “If this is  _just_ all business, you won’t mind using your hold on Fujimiya to dig a little deeper into Kritiker would you?”

“He is already suspicious of their motives,” Yuuji allowed.  “A few suggestions would probably push him right into mad dog mode.” He held up a finger, poking something off an imaginary edge with a very short poke.

“Then do what you do best,” Brad smiled pleasantly.  “I want Persia and Manx out of the time line.  And in the process, you can find out the truth behind your brain washing, thus clearing up your problem as well as mine.”

“Sah, I don’t want to go back there,” Yuuji stretched his long limbed body, then went limp again on the sofa.  “The more time I spend there now, the more problems I have with disassociating myself from Kudoh.  I’m afraid if you asked me now, I wouldn’t be able to kill any one of them without it being a massive psychological issue.” He made a face.

“Fujimiya would think you ran away from him and hunt you down,” Brad told him.  “Get your ass back there.  And this time, stand up a little more for your manhood, or be honest about it. You  _like_  the little bastard.  Maybe nearly three years was enough for you, too.”

“Guys,” Schuldig cut in. “I’m a little too tired for this cat fight.  You’re both pretty, play nice, because the rest of us don’t want to hear it.”  He got up and headed for the bedroom.  “I’m going to bed, it’s been a long damn week.” 

 

*       *       * 

 

  Schuldig was still awake half an hour later when Brad came in to the darkened room and shut the door.  He knew because he’d been watching the clock. “What, no company tonight?” he said coldly, laying there with his hands behind his head, glaring at the ceiling. 

Brad started to undress in the dark.  “Wouldn’t it be nice if there really was a world you could just slip into and have a whole new set of problems, instead of the same old ones?  What happened to the adventure of being the bad guys?  Instead it’s all just the usual office politics and relationship drama.  I remember getting my first gun. I was so excited, I shot four of my classmates.  _So_ worth detention.”

“There is a reason Esset keeps close tabs on you,” Schuldig growled.  

Brad lifted the bed cover and slipped in under it, cold leg brushing warm one. 

There was a shuffle of limbs as they arranged themselves, Schuldig tucking himself into the embrace, his head under Brad’s chin where he could hear the beating of his heart.  Brad rubbed his shoulder and caressed the back of his neck.  He sighed.  “What decision?” he picked up where they had left off earlier.

Brad was quiet for a moment longer, then said, “Not much of one.  Something’s going on and I can’t trace it to the correct end, but for now, if I do anything, I’m sure it will go all wrong.”

“ _It_  being?” Schuldig pressed.

“If I let him continue on the path he’s on, I’m not sure it’s because he would be a victim of the brain washing more than personal choice.  But is it Kudoh’s life he wants, or just that one little bit of it that seems to have attached itself to him.”

“You mean Fujimiya,” Schuldig said dully.  “Come on, Brad, is this just your ego, or are you really concerned for Sarazawa Yuuji  _as a person_ ,” he said the last mockingly. 

“You’re the telepath, you tell me,” Brad countered.  “How can ‘luck’ be a talent anyway?  I should think it would be more of a type of low level precognition.   A subconscious nagging that said hesitate a little longer here, or hurry up there, rather than just ‘luck’. 

Shuldig half sat up with a start.  “Do you think—he’s attached himself to Yuuji because he’d survive what’s coming if he does!”

Brad blinked, stunned by this revelation.  “What if that  _is_  it?  Fujimiya Ran’s  _intuition?”_

Schuldig flopped back down on his back.  “So, if you let this go on, he’ll save Fujimiya.  But if you stop it, we’re stuck with him.  In which case, if I have to, I’ll save Fujimiya myself to be rid of Yuuji, because I’m not liking any of this one bit.”

Brad laughed. “You see?  We’re all just part of Fate’s diabolical plan for Fujimiya Ran.  It really  _is_  all about  _him_.”

“How much did you have to drink before I came home?”

“Not a thing,” Brad said, “I’m just reaching the stupid-silly level of being over tired.”

“Then answer me,” Schuldig turned to him in the darkness.  “Do you still love him that much?”

“I—,”

Schuldig waited. 

“I think I—could—let him go,” Brad finally said softly.  “If he wanted to.  If I knew he’d be happy, and it wasn’t just some delusion based on the brain washing.  But I reserve the right to be miserably jealous and bitter for a very long time.”

Schuldig turned to put an arm around him.  "I suppose I understand.  But there had better not be any more of these old boyfriends lurking around."

"I promise," Brad said.  "No more."  

"Not even dead ones?"

"Nope."

"Then I forgive you," Schuldig kissed him on the cheek.  "I can understand this sort of thing happening when Esset had your talent smothered, but now you have no excuse. If you even see yourself cheating on me in the future, I want you to tell me, so I can shoot you in the foot."

"How will that help anything!" Brad protested.  

"Like tight shoes, the pain will take your mind off other things." Schuldig warned.  "Besides, I'd like to see anyone try looking sexy in a boot cast."

"There's the sympathy ploy.  Hurt/comfort factor?"

"Bullshit.  That and the old 'man holding a baby' thing, eugh.  Ridiculous.  Guy's already taken or more likely, a child molester; why would any woman fall for that crap?"  

"Walking a dog in the park?"  

"What makes a man look attractive doing that?" Schuldig stated a bit louder than the time of night called for.  "'Oh, he owns a stinky pooping shedding machine that will pee all over the carpet, I sooo want him!'" he mocked in a girlish voice. 

"Sitting in a hidden lair, stroking a white cat?" Brad offered mirthfully. 

"Only if _I'm_  the one wearing the cat suit," Schuldig purred. 

"Go to sleep, you loon," Brad ordered. 


	4. Four

Takatori Hirofumi watched the truck pull up into the estate’s compound.  The continuing de-population of the country side had made it so much easier to buy up land and set up these hunts.  And in turn, to have plenty of material to blackmail rich men into supporting his father’s political ambitions.  “How many?” he asked the two who got out of the cab.  They didn’t wear their membership badges to any yakuza group, but there was a furtive, suspicious air about them that negated the first impression of hard working delivery drivers for something more sinister.

“Ten,” the driver said, sorting out a key on a clutch of them.  He lead the way around to the back of the truck to start unlocking the padlocks.  “You said young and healthy.  We took some chances grabbing these.” He and his partner swung open the doors. “All of ‘em prime ‘competitors’,” he laughed cruelly.  “No signs of drug use, no alcohol.  You’ll be adding that bonus to the payment.” He lit up a cigarette and stood there looking at Hirofumi expectantly.

The kids, not much more than high school age, were all gagged and bound, wrist and ankles, with duct tape.  Hirofumi stepped up into the truck and looked them over carefully.  They did look normal enough; some in uniform, some in casual clothing, well fed and healthy.  “The blond there?” he noticed the small boy with the bright color hair. “You took a chance.  Someone’s bound to miss a foreigner.”

“Nuh-unh,” the driver said.  “ID says he’s Japanese.  Ha-fu.  No one important’s going to miss him.” 

“Unload them,” Hirafumi told his men.  He briefly considered just shooting the driver and his partner, then decided to let them go for one more round up.  “This time, I’ll pay _double_ for little ones,” he told them.  No older than 13.  And get more girls this time.  One of my clients has a _special_ request.”

He noticed two of the boys looked alike.  “Hunh, twins,” he said.  “This should be interesting.  Separate the girls out from the group, put them in a room.”

“Sorry, Takatori-san, that’s not a girl,” the driver smirked in amusement.  “Just looks like one.”

Hirofumi caught one of the dark haired boys awake and looking at him coldly from behind glasses, and blinked in surprise.  It was just the similarity, but for a moment he could have sworn he was being spied on by one of his father’s obnoxious body guards.  He took the boy’s glasses off and ground them under his foot into the gravel of the drive.  “You won’t be needing these.” Hirofumi smiled meanly.  He knew from experience how crippling not having the ability to see could be. 

 

*        *        *

 

This would be so much easier if he still smoked, the thought slithered into the back of ‘Yohji’s’ mind.  He stood in the back delivery alley of the flower shop, phone to his ear.  “If we take Hirofumi alive, maybe he knows where Masafumi’s women went,” he said quietly.  The force of habit was so strong, he nearly raised an empty hand to his mouth to inhale a non-existent cigarette.  He stared at the traitorous hand and then used it to pull the elastic out of his hair and rub the back of his scalp. 

“I rather doubt that would be the case,” Crawford’s voice murmured in his ear from the phone.  “They were territorial over Masafumi; they wouldn’t be so ready to communicate with his idiot younger brother.”

Yuuji felt a wave of desire, not just for the basics, but for the old days, when it was just—much easier.  He caught himself up and thought again.  Right now, there was the mission, and that was all.  “I want to try anyway.  Seems like Takatori Reiji kept those two right in with most of his plans.  You don’t think the brothers would know each other well enough to at least have an idea of what the other one was doing?  Hirofumi’s set up to round up people for his god damned games is too easy a way for Masafumi to get victims for his experiments.  Seems to me if he got as far as he did in the first place before advertising for ‘volunteers’, the other brother might have some information.”

Crawford was silent, considering this.  “Alright, but be careful.  Taktaori is….”

A hand slid over Yohji’s and swiped the phone from him, “Who are you talking to?” Aya asked, looking at the screen.  Number unknown. 

Yohji took the phone back.  “Manx,” he lied and put the phone back to his ear.  “Yeah, yeah, I know, hunt the dark beasts and end their lives,” he thumbed the end call button and put the phone in his pocket.  He’d have to make sure to delete the call history later, in case Mr. Nosy Pants decided to double check.

“And?” Aya looked up into his eyes, as usual his own were cold and suspicious.  “Can we kill them all?”

Yohji nearly lost it at that moment, taken by surprise.  Was it red heads in general?  “If we capture Hirofumi, maybe we can get him to tell us where Masafumi’s women went.  Or at least get a clue as to where he might have had a place for them to bolt to.”

“You saw him; he’s good as dead, who cares?” Aya stated.

“Well,” Yohji said, trying the reasonable voice.  “You still have his insane crew of lunatics running loose with that formula, and now, they’re _really_ pissed off because we basically killed their most important person.  Sort of reminds you of someone you know, doesn’t it?”

The glare turned to a sulk at the brick wall. 

“Reality check,” Yohji tapped him on the forehead lightly.  “You want that pack of crazy bitches coming back to bite us on the ass?  We’re talking chemical warfare here, worse than the subway sarin attack.  And how do we know they can’t somehow revive that bastard. Look what they did do!"

Aya looked at him again, the worry showing now.  “You really think they revived your old girlfriend, or whatever she was?” he was getting angry again, too.

“’Whatever’ is right,” Yohji said carefully.  “I—look you, no molesting me—“ he fended off a hand reaching for him by catching Aya’s wrist.  “I’m serious here.  Maybe the reason I can’t remember anything about what happened when Asuka was killed is because _it never did happen._ ”

Aya blinked, his lips falling open slightly as this hit his angry bee swarm of a brain like a puff of smoke. 

Damn, confused Aya was a pretty sight.  Yuuji reminded his dick that it was not it's job to make the decissions. He could swear it tried to flip him off.  (Must wear tighter pants.  And look into this ‘tucking’ thing.)

 “That doctor, remember?  He’s the one Kritiker sends people to for ‘further questioning’.  Aya, I was doing fine until I saw that woman’s face.  Then I started back in with the nightmares and everything that went with it?  And if this Asuka was killed, then who was _that_ woman?  Why did she of all of them, keep her face covered with a mask?  She looked, sounded, _smelt_ like the woman I remember as Asuka.”

A range of anger went across Aya’s face.  The guy was going to _have_ to learn not to telegraph like that, or go back to being a waiter.  Yuuji thought it was a bit much that such a good looking guy would be condemned to a life in the low end of service industry.  So much for being born into money and prestige.  Ah, there it was again, that damned underlying sympathy gland or whatever it was in his head.  While it made it easy to slip into other people’s lives, it also made it damned hard to stab them in the back later.  Brad liked to watch his victims die, but Yuuji was more of a long distance guy.  Easier to forget when you didn’t see them actually die.  Just a big noise and that was it.  ‘God, I’m such a coward,’ he thought.  Then pulled himself together. 

He let go of the wrist he’d been holding and put his hand on Aya’s shoulder.  “You said it yourself.  Kritiker isn’t giving us all they have.  And what’s with all the connections to the Takatories in general?  So let’s get hold of Takatori Hirofumi and question him ourselves before we hand him over.”

Those freakishly gorgeous eyes narrowed.  “Won’t they suspect something if _we_ question him first?”

Had he overheard the conversation? Was this a test? “Why recruit a supposedly licensed detective and then not make use of him as anything other than an assassin?” Yohji asked back.  “We want Masafumi’s women before they dump that shit into the water supply or something; who’s going to question that answer? It’s a legitimate fear. After all, we’re the _good guys_ , we do have social values, right?” It was hard to tell with Aya.

Aya frowned sullenly.  “What little they leave us.”

So, there was a human being under there, Yuuji thought.  Maybe that’s why Aya was so damned angry.  He’d been forced into this against everything an upper middle class sixteen year old kid could have possibly known.  Parents murdered, sister attempted and good as murdered, corrupt politics, being forced to kill for a living, monsters that didn’t even make it into the news; all the horrors of the underground war going on in oh-so-safe Japan. The past three years were a tour of duty the guy hadn't asked for. He gave Aya’s shoulder a squeeze.  “It’s time we fought back,” he said decisively. 

Easy as fishing; the hook was set, the shine of the scales rising under the water to the sunlight, the glimmering of hope in his victim’s eyes. 

Sarazawa Yuuji felt a justified pride in his well honed techniques.  Kudoh Yohji just felt like a miserable bastard. 

He pulled Aya to himself and held him tight, eyes closed against the sting he suddenly felt in them.  “I’ll get you out of this mess,” he promised raggedly, not knowing where the hell it was coming from. 

 

*        *        *

 

The door opened and two of the guards came in to the room, while two others waited at the door with drawn guns; nasty little mini-machine guns.  Some of the kids started to whimper and curl up, but the others just sat numbly, still in shock, wondering what was going to happen next. 

The two thugs started pulling off the duct tape on mouths and cutting it off wrists, being none to careful how they did it.  “Now listen up!” one said while the other finished the job.  “You’re not going to get out of here, so forget it!  The only way to survive this is to run like hell when we let you lose.  You’re game in a hunt,” he said cruelly.  “Like little foxes, you’re going to have to run from the dogs, and they have all your scents.  You’ve played video games, right? Well, now’s your chance to find out what it’s like in real life.  Make it to the main road and you're out of bounds, safe.  But if you tell anyone what really happened, anything about what you’ve seen and heard here, remember we have all your papers.  Just shut up and be glad you’re alive.  We know who you are, and where you live.  And we’ll get you and your families.” 

He didn’t tell them that to get to the main road, they’d have to scale a 12 foot high electric fence manned by gaurds with more guns.  The other way lead deeper into the forest.

“So eat up, rest up; you’re going to need it.  We want to give our clients a good hunt, and part of the thrill is the idea that you _might_ just escape.”

 The other guy went out and came back in with a bucket and started tossing bottles of water and energy bars to the kids. 

“The girl who was taken with me, what did you do to her!” a smallish, light haired boy demanded.

“None of your business, Kid,” the guy who’d done all the talking shut the door behind himself and the captives heard the bolts set in place again. 

Omi slumped back against the wall he’d been sitting at.  Ouka should have never been caught up in this!

One of the other kids, now free of the ankle duct tape, handed him a bottle of water and two power bars.  “If it’s true, don’t hesitate, eat,” she had a soft, sweet, polite voice, totally unlike Ouka.  Her hair was short and fluffy, reddish, her eyes a soft brown to match.

“Thank you, onesan,” Omi said politely, greatful for someone who had some sense.

‘She’ smiled. “I’m not a girl.  But don’t worry, everyone makes that mistake.” He went around to the others who were more distressed, calming them down, trying to comfort them as best as possible and making sure that everyone got a share of the water and food. 

Omi checked his clothing, then his shoes.  The communications device was still in the stupidly high but convenient heel of his boots.  As soon as he was outside for the hunt, he’d have to ditch the boots.  The close fitting rubber beach shoes he wore underneath his socks would have to do against the forest floor.  He looked around. 

Near him, there was a tight group; light haired twins, a very blond boy even smaller than Omi, and a black haired boy, all clustered in one corner away from the others.  The blond boy picked at the toe of his sneakers,  pouting, sitting with his knees up to his chin and one arm around his legs. 

“Chizuru-kun, eat something,” the reddish haired boy urged, sitting down with them to open up his own bottle of water and have a sip. 

“What are we going to do?” one of the twins asked, unusually calm, given the the over all level of fear in the room. 

“Well, I don’t think this is just some bad joke,” the black haired boy said.  “That bastard smashed my glasses on purpose,” he rubbed an eye.  “And I don’t think there’s a chance in hell of getting to _any_ main road. They don't dare let us go. They just told us that to make us fight harder.” He glared at the blond boy. 

Omi sensed allies, but he wanted to make sure first, keeping on eye on them.  If they got in the way of Weiss’s plans, it could make things worse.

“He’s right, there are no girls in here,” someone said shakily.  “It must be worse for them.  Minami-chan." He started to cry softly.

“Last night there were 10 of us in the van, now we're down a girl there are still 10.  How many others do you suppose there are?” The twin said.

The other one polished off an energy bar and moved forward a little.  “If we don’t run, if we turn and fight, maybe we have a better chance.  They got us all by putting that spray in our faces, right?  My guess is that the people hunting us won’t have that advantage.”

“Yuuki’s right,” the very blond boy said, moving closer by scooting across the wooden floor boards, too.  “There are ten of us, how many of them?”

Omi sensed this was getting out of hand.  If these kids thought they were going to go up against grown men with automatic pistols, rifles and dogs, his plan was off.  He had to call in Weiss soon as possible. 

“ _That’s_ where it all goes _wrong_ ,” the black haired boy said joylessly.  “It doesn’t matter how many against how many! They have guns!  No plan is going to help us.”

“Kanami-kun,” the reddish haired boy said, laying a hand on his shoulder, then taking a light grip on his school jacket sleeve.  “I’ll be your eyes.”

“We’re not going to separate,” the other twin asserted.  “They handicapped Kanami, but we stick together, no matter what.”

Kanami pounded both fists on the floor in frustrated anger.  “You damned monkey, this is all your fault!” he accused the very blond boy.  " _You_ made us miss the train!"

Omi for once sat out a fight while the effeminate boy threw himself into breaking up what looked like sincerly attempted murder. While the others watched in fascinated or stunned silence, he sat with his legs under him, feet behind, and pulled the heel off his boot to edge out the device. 

The twins hauled the black haired boy off the blond with a choke hold and the other boy checked the blond for damage.  It gave Omi pause.  He was used to the violent outbreaks of high tension at the flowershop, but these were 'normal' kids.  They were oddly adept at dealing with Kanami’s temper.  Japanese group dynamics, self policing, traits instilled by a good school system.  Omi felt a little tiny bit jealous. 

But he could see the twins ‘communicating’ with glances.  They were going to try something anyway.  This was going to be trouble.

 

*        *        *

 

The tourist’s viewing platform gave a marvelously sweeping view of the lake region behind Mt. Fuji.  Aya’s tension was affecting the spring air around him for at least 2 meters.  Yuuji frowned at his back and stepped back a bit more to try and clear his head.  His veins were practically screaming for nicotine, which in turn made him hate Kritiker all the more.  They might as well have got him hooked on heroin!  

He checked the tension on the wire in his watch for the fifth time.

Aya looked at him.  “Omi’s taking too long.”

Yes, well, Yuuji had his thoughts about that, but it wouldn’t do to trigger another ‘Takatori, Die!’ attack.  Bad enough there were going to be some pretty high ranking members of the Diet left with katana wounds and missing body parts all over.  Sooner or later this was all going to go to hell in a basket.  “Calm down, Aya,” he ordered.  “Haven’t  you ever read The Art of War, or something?”

“That outdated wanna-be dictator crap is only good if you are in charge of the troops,” Aya countered.  “Not if you’re a dog on a leash.” He fretted at his gloves, pulling them tighter.

‘Well, well, psycho pretty-boy has a brain.  Nope, not thinking with my dick at all.’ Yuuji caught himself reaching for a pocket ‘Yohji’ had kept his cigarettes in and wished there was a tree close by to punch. 

The beep of the communication device was like a ray of light from the heavenly bridge.  “Get in here quickly!” Omi voice said in panic when he answered it.  “A few of the kids my age are going to get themselves killed fighting back!”  

Good for them, Yuuji thought.  “Let’s move!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest 'victim' appearances by the gang from "Kimi to Boku": Matsuoka Shun, Tachibana Chizuru, twins Asaba Yuuki and Yuuta, and voted most likely to be a future psycho-killer, Tsukahara Kanami. 
> 
> Haru, Hiromi, and Prince Lune from "Neko no Ongaeshi" cameo'd in Chapter One.


	5. Five

“I don’t care what Aya says, we have to do something about rounding up those kids before they get lost out here,” Ken told Yohji as Aya ran off into the woods toward the sound of shot guns.

  
Yohji pulled out his phone. “Manx can get someone here.” He said, hitting the quick dial for quite another number. “But we need to know how many there are, we don’t want to lose anyone. The temperatures are going to drop again tonight and it’s much colder out here in the woods than in the city.”

Ken nodded curtly and raced after Aya.

Yohji frowned and waited for the call to pick up. Now was not a time for voice mail.

“Yes,” Crawford said.

“So cold,” Yuuji complained sultrily. “Try, ‘Yes, Darling’.”

There was a huff of exasperation. “I’m busy. What is it?”

“Hirofumi’s on the Takatori’s Mt. Fuji estate. And—I’ve got a favor to call in.”

Silence.

Naturally. The precognitive was checking the time lines, Yuuji thought. He’d better do this….

“Now that’s just creepy,” Crawford murmured without explanation. “I’ll send Schuldig and Farfarello—.”

“Tell them to stay the hell away from Weiss,” Yuuji ordered. “These kids need to be got safely back to their families. I’m having major issues with putting anyone into the tender hands of Kritiker right now.”

“Understood,” Crawford sounded irritated. “Just keep your pet psychopath away from Hirofumi. He can’t answer questions if he’s cut in half.”

“This is what I keep telling everyone, but no one listens,” Yuuji groused. “By the way, Brad, what are you wearing?” he just had to taunt.

The call was cut.

He chuckled and put the phone away. Hirofumi would be most likely to be sitting pretty in that pair of restored farm houses turned fancy hunting lodge.

 

Omi was surprised to catch up with Ouka, but more surprised to see that his fears were correct. Not only had Ouka tried to fend off the dogs with what amounted to a big twig, a few of the kids were arming themselves with larger branches. One of the twins stripped off excess growth, while the other did a rough job of smoothing them with a rock to make a single long club. These were handed out as fast as possible to the kids who had taken kendo, or were at least willing to try.

He was even more shocked when following one of the hunters, looking for an opening in the trees to dart him, he came upon one of the girls whimpering and clutching her leg in a fairly clear area. The hunter closed in for a close up shot. Before Omi could do anything to rescue her, two boys tackled the hunter from behind and pulled away the rifle. The misguided blast took a chunk out of the tree Omi was crouched beside, dart in hand. He nearly stuck himself!

Omi reached his limit of shock when the girl easily got up, obviously uninjured, and proceeded to kick the hell out of the hunter turned victim. The boys had to haul her off him before she killed him. And he’d thought Ouka was a pushy woman!

“Damn it Aya, three of the kids have taken a rifle away from the killers. Don’t mistake them for an enemy!” Omi ordered into the mini walkie-talkie.

“Understood,” Aya stated, his voice breaking up a little with the bad reception of the deep woods.

In the mean time, the boys had tied the old guy up with his own dog leash and belt. They stuffed leaves in and tied his mouth up with a handkerchief to keep him quiet. Now they were going through the contents of his wallet and checking out his cell phone, holding it up to try for reception.

“Taxi money!” the one holding the wallet waved bills in the air.

“Fuck that, has he got any credit cards?” the girl said. “You perverted old bastard!” she kicked him again for good measure.

Omi wavered between pretending to just stumble into this, or quietly sneak away. Takatori Hirofumi had obviously bitten off too much when he went after high schoolers!

No one needed to save this trio. Sneaking away seemed the better idea. Omi heard the echoing boom of more rifle shots to the south and hurried that way as quietly as possible through the rough undergrowth.

 

* * *

 

Schuldig dropped from the landing gear of the low hovering helicopter, and signaled the pilot to go. This was as close as he dared come without alerting anyone on the estate grounds to their presence. “Our target is Hirofumi,” he reminded Farfarello. “You can’t kill anyone.”

“Neither can you,” Farfarello said, not happy.

Schuldig gave him the narrow eyed glare of doom.

 

* * *

Yuuji had circled back around to the hunting lodge and just taken out one of the hunters when he crossed Omi’s path.

“Yohji-kun,” Omi said. “There’s a woman in your car. I had to sedate her. I need you to take her back to Tokyo.”

Yuuji looked at him skeptically. “Not in the middle of a mission, Bishounen.”

“But she was badly bitten by the dogs!”

“And you drugged her,” Yuuji stated. “She’ll keep. We need to round up these kids and get them back to their parents.

“She’s beautiful,” Omi said.

Yuuji’s mouth became a tight line of irritation. “Nice try, kiddo, but I’m not really that cheap. Maybe if you’d said she was bleeding out or something, but that was just—what’s this girl to you?” Realization dawned on him. “Holy shit—Ouka? She got caught with you?”

Omi pouted. “I’m going after Takatori Hirofumi. You can just—go to hell, Kudoh.” He turned and ran in the direction of the hunting lodge.

Hirofumi hadn’t recognized his own half sister?

Yuuji frowned again, then followed Omi.

 

* * *

 

Hirofumi had gone to ground at the lodge. For whatever dumb reason, he seemed to think a locked door would do the job. Yohji's picks made short work of the french window's flimsy lock just as Farfarello and Schuldig shot the lock off the front door and kicked it in. This left Hirofumi and a hastily lit cigar between Weiss and Schwarz. He recognized Schwarz, though. "Kill them!" he ordered, pointing at Yohji and Omi; the former with watch arm held out and aimed, the later with a brace of hypodermic darts in one hand and one ready to throw in the other.

Schuldig grinned wickedly. "Balinese, Scottish Fold or whatever." He threw out a hand to block Farfarello's attacking them. "Wait, Farfarello. Just wait, everyone." He looked at Hirofumi. "Let's have a little detent, shall we? First of all, you don't order us around. Crawford wants a word with you."

But Hirofumi was no longer paying attention to the devil with the gun. Instead, he was staring at Omi. "Mamoru?" he said. "It is you, isn't it?"

"And now another cat is out of the bag," Schuldig commented drily. "We'll make a trade, Weiss. You give us this waste of good shark bait, we'll give you the little princess."

"They have Ouka!" Omi exclaimed and glared at Yohji.

"Interesting that even though Takatori Reiji has acknowledged his extra-marital daughter, her half brother sets her up to be hunted down." Yohji was looking at Hirofumi as he carefully reached down to pick up the faxed photo on the table and held it up for Omi to see.

"Tich, tich, tich," Schuldig clicked his tongue in mock dismay. "Looks like with big brother Masafumi turned potted perennial, Hirofumi here wants to take the lion's share of any possible inheritance."

"That's not true!" Hirofumi exclaimed. "I--I didn't look that closely at the photos! Why should I? They were just kids hired off the streets to play a game. It's not my fault it got out of hand and the players used real guns!" He was thinking up excuses as he went. "But--it's Mamoru, you disappeared, they said you were kidnapped!"

"Shut him up," Yohji ordered Schuldig curtly.

The telepath, surprisingly, obeyed, gesturing at the man to sit down. Hirofumi sat down abruptly, his face gone blank, eyes dazed.

Schuldig looked at Yohji expectantly.

Omi was having a major problem here. Hirofumi's words had triggered memories that he'd long wondered about. But this was added to the fact that Yohji had just told an enemy--flat out ordered him--what to do, and been obeyed.

"Little kittens have big ears, " Farfarello said dangerously in his oddly lilting Japanese.

Schuldig laughed harshly. "Not a problem, his mind is like a sieve. It's a wonder he has any brains left to leak out at all. But Fujimiya is closing in, so we'd better clean this up. Do you want the girl or not?"

"The plan was to round up the kids and get them home safely, Schuldig." Yohji stated.

Schuldig closed his eyes to concentrate, then opened them with a deep sigh, looking like he'd got a headache for his trouble. "They're all heading for the front gate now. And by now, Crawford has notified the local police, who _aren't_ in Takatori Shuuichi's pocket. But I warn you, that was my good deed for the day; now I go back to being evil."

"If you've harmed Ouka...!" Omi still hadn't let go of his darts. "Balinese!" He looked accusingly at Yohji. “What’s going on here!”

It was Yohji's turn to sigh. "Would it make this easier to release Ouka?"

"I'm not in touch with Crawford, so your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it will make the re-write more palatable," Schuldig looked at Omi with that wicked grin of his.

"While you're at it, make him less oppressively cheerful in the mornings." Yohji said grimly.

"You wish," Schuldig growled. And Omi blacked out.


	6. Six

Yuuji frowned at the sight of an unconscious Ouka in his car.  “Damn it, Omi, you’re going to pay for this.” He looked around and thought about just putting her out.  It was near enough to the main gate…but no, that was just unnecessarily mean. And Omi would be more inclined to go after Schwarz on principal.  Schuldig had warned him that the mind tweaking was very subtle.  Omi would remember Schwarz ‘rescuing’ Hirofumi from Weiss' clutches after a bit of a dust up and that would be it.  Too bad Schuldig had vetoed the suggestion that he make Omi remember how valiantly Kudoh had fought and managed to seriously wound the arrogant German.  Schuldig had, though, counter offered to implant a memory of Yohji being spanked; pants down and begging for more.  Yuuji had shut up. 

He drove back to the flower shop and hesitating inside the door, came up with a truly wicked plan of revenge.  He dumped Ouka on Omi's bed to sleep it off. 

Aya and the others came in just as he was heading out again.  "Where are you going?" Aya blocked his path.

"Remember that thing called 'food'?" Yohji asked.  "You guys want anything?  I figure I'll be back about the time you get all that--is this someone's spleen?--off," he flicked a fingernail at a bit of gore stuck on Aya's leather coat. 

" _Yohji-kun!"_ Omi bellowed in complaint having found the ticking bomb in his room.

"I'll just get the usuals," Yohji ran for it. 

"Yakitori set!" Ken ordered. "Extra veg, brown rice!"

"Double inarizushi, and more sauce this time!" Aya yelled after him as he vaulted the closed door of the Seven and jammed the key in the ignition.

A dart pinged off the back end as he spun away from the kerb. 

 

Yohji was just collecting all the plastic bags containing his meal orders from the counter when he felt a presence near his left elbow.  He looked.  Then he looked down. 

"Do me a favor, Sarazawa-san, or I'll crush your car," Nagi said.

"Kid, you hurt that car and I'll photo shop pictures of you and Bombey having a Kardashian-style slumber party all over the internets."

Nagi looked surprisingly evil for a kid his apparent age. Or maybe that was _why_ he looked so surprisingly evil.  "Please," he stated it like a death threat.

"Is this the kind of favor Brad would kill me for?"

Nagi frowned a little, thinking this one over, then sort of shrugged it off.  "Maybe.  But I don't think so," he looked up at Yuuji with knowing eyes.  "I've got two choices, and Schuldig will say no on principal.  You have no principals."

Yuuji opened his mouth, then shut it again, then sighed, still balancing the heavily laden take out bags. "What is it, then?"

"Give me a lift somewhere. But I can't tell you where, because Schuldig will suck it right out of your--brains." He looked below Yuuji's belt line, then up at his face again. 

"Can't right now," Yuuji hefted the bags.  "When?"

"Tonight?" Nagi started to look a little on the desperate side. 

"And how the hell am I supposed to sneak you off somewhere Brad obviously does not want you to go?" He was getting the idea he knew where to, though.  Hirofumi must have popped his cork.  Guy had the spine of a mollusk. 

"Just do it," Nagi stated.  "I'll take the consequences later.  Expect to hear from me around 11 pm." He tipped his chin toward the restaurant door in dismissal. 

"This is a slippery slope, you know," Yuuji warned him.  "You'll be barely 20 before you get shot in the ass by some husband come home early."

Nagi almost smiled, but it came across as more like the evil smirk of a certain elder team member.  "What ever," he flicked his head to get his hair out of his eyes. 

 

*        *        *

 

Aya was still damp haired from his shower, and somehow the coconut lime shampoo from the dollar store everyone used just because it was there smelt so much more exotic on him.  Yuuji had noticed right off the moment he sat down to eat that Aya had something up his hacked off sweatshirt sleeve.  Someone had _not_ whacked off in the shower.  Then again, Aya was nineteen.  Maybe he had. 

Yuuji cleared his throat and tried to get _that_ visual out of his head. After all, the kitchen table in  a shared living quarter should be a sacred place.  He was more hungry than horny and the mixed grill and tempura plate was still nice and hot.  It had cost a pretty penny, but he’d figured he needed the protein after the morning he’d had.  And the night he was going to have. 

"Yohji-kun, you shouldn't have put her in my bed!" Omi hissed.

"Why not, Chibi?" _Yohji_ asked, remembering who he was supposed to be, despite the purple abyss he'd been staring into without realizing it.  "You wouldn't do anything to her, would you?" he said, wide eyed in mock alarm.

Omi blushed.  "What about when the drug wears off?  She's going to have questions."

"How long does whatever you gave her last?" Yuuji started to worry a bit.  It was heading for five now, and after a long day, he had to face potential mayhem at 11 tonight.  Which--he would think about later.

"She should be coming around in about an hour or two," Omi said. "We have to get her out of here."

"Dope her up again," Ken advised.  "Take her to the hospital and tell them she took something and passed out."

"I don't want anyone thinking she's a drug addict!" Omi protested.

"She's already a Takatori," Aya said calmly, licking his chopstick in an alarmingly insouciant way. "Can't get much lower than that."

"Aya!" Omi blew up (rather like an enraged dandelion puff). 

Yuuji, on the other hand, was thinking about a scene from a samurai movie where the rough but fairly heroic lead had just hauled aside the skirt of his kimono and gone for the teasingly pretty tea house maiden right across the little table; cue alarmed squeal, cut scene, big sword fight, angst, drama, lots of people running around dirt streets in wooden sandals, maiden clinging to lead's kimono sleeve as he heroically shoves her off in a manly way of not openly saying it's for her own safety and strides off to fight the evil land baron's gang of thugs to the death, cue more dramatic music.  

Aya popped another sauce dripping half inarizushi pouch into his mouth and ate it slowly with intent.

'If you lick those damned sticks again...' Yuuji thought at him, 'I'm going to go all waring states era on your ass'. 

Aya had a swig from his bottle of green tea, and licked his lips instead, knowing damned well what he was doing.

"Inarizushi isn't _that_ good, Aya," Ken groused.

"Don't you have a ball to kick around somewhere, Hidaka?" Aya sniped.

"Gentlemen," Yohji stated, somehow coming back to his senses.  "We've already been through one battle today; enough is enough." Besides, he wanted to keep Aya in a good mood. Angry Aya was a nasty selfish fuck who might reach for the big damned sword mid-orgasm like a praying mantis.  Happy Aya was all coos and purrs and gaspy little sighs and that sort of high pitched whine that often turned into a very beguiling cry of pleasure, (even if it was the wrong name, which had ceased to throw Yuuji off his stride the second time, thank goodness, because wondering who the hell this 'Yohji' guy was in mid-fuck was a guaranteed mood killer.)

Damn it, he couldn't make up his mind! 

"Ken's got a point, Omi-kun," Yohji switched gears in self defense.  After all the table was concealing his raging hard on.  "Dump her on the floor of the shop, tell the EMTs she fainted and you can't wake her up."

Omi went into a deflated sulk.  Ah, poor little guy.  Yuuji wondered when he’d shed that cute coat and grow his scales like the rest of the Takatori snakes?

 

*        *        *

 

A small patter of pebbles hit the wall just under the window.  Yuuji froze, but Aya was asleep deep enough not to notice until Yuuji  started to get up out of bed. 

"Where are you going?" he murmured.

"Pee," Yuuji told him. No lie either. 

"Hn," Aya turned over, taking most of the blankets with him and settled back into the depths of post coital pass out.  Yuuji frowned.  'You _would_ ,' he thought of the fight it was going to be to get his share--no wait!  Those were _all_ his blankets!  Ah, what the hell! 

 

He shivered a little against the damp night chill despite his jacket and started the car up, turning on the somewhat useless little heater.  He'd put the top up earlier, but the plastic and canvas didn't maintain any of the late spring daytime heat.  "Alright, Trouble, where to?"

"Just follow directions," Nagi ordered.  "And don't look at street signs for your own good."

"Couldn't this wait until you learned to drive yourself?" Yuuji asked, taking off the parking brake.

 

Over an hour later, Nagi instructed him to pull over into a layby out in the boonies; rice paddy land.  "Wait here, I don't care how long, but you're not dumping me out here, because if you do…."

“I got yah. Death, death and more death.” Yohji settled down in his seat, tipped it back and found a sort of cowboy hat in the little luggage area to plunk on his head.  “Wake me up when you get back.”  He figured the less he knew, the less he’d suffer.  Bad enough Brad was going to sic Schuldig on him and he was complicit to start with.  “Don’t get yourself killed, or I’m really dead,” he added as an afterthought.   

 

*        *        *

 

Nagi sat on the window sill and looked at the blue haired girl laying in the bed.  She had been hurt pretty badly, because after weeks, she was still in a cast on her arm that he could see.  But she was breathing on her own and Rabbi-chan was sprawled across the coverlet by her other hand.  He looked around the room.  As spartan as it was, there were a few things that matched her personality.  A tall wide mouthed vase held a clutch of parasols.  There were coloring books and crayons, games, more stuffed toys, and what looked to be a new doll practically mummified in ruffles and lace, with creepily real eyes.  He panicked momentarily, wondering if it had cameras in them.  A quick feel around with his power found nothing.  Still, creepy doll.

He slipped over the sill and planted his feet on the floor, then walked slowly over to stand beside the bed. 

Tot had one of those pretty girl faces; not too round, not to thin, the sort they drew for the 'sweet' girl in most anime.  Even without the makeup, she looked pretty.  Unless she was one of those girls who wore ‘natural style’ make up to bed like obsessives.  He’d taken to reading the Lolita Bible when it came out, he knew what was what.  He even knew her best dresses were Baby the Stars Shine Bright.  Sure enough, the latest copy of the magazine was laying there on the bedside.  His data collection was nothing if not thorough.  

If you wanted to win the girl, you had to _be_ the girl, but  not so much that she went into shock when she found out you were actually still _you_ once you had her wrapped up.  Shocked girls got angry, angry girls got vindictive.  Then they mutated into a Godzilla movie monster extra.  There had to be a subtle line drawn.  Unfortunately it all came down to one thing, according to Brad.  Know your prey.  Damn it. 

He wanted to touch her cheek.  The skin looked soft.  ‘It probably is, after all, she’s a girl,’ he told himself, ‘don’t press your luck’.  Now, what would this girl find romantic?  He looked around the room, then his eyes fell again on Rabbi-chan.  Aha! 

 

*        *        *

 

“Sarazawa-san, wake up!”

Another brutal shaking of his shoulder did the trick.  Yuuji dragged himself to consciousness and realized he was stiff and something was uncomfortable in his lower back.  Not good.  Not at his young age.  “Did you get what you wanted, Brat?”

“It wasn’t what you think I wanted,” Nagi said defensively, equal parts annoyed and embarrassed.  “I was on reconnaissance.  Brad told me to check out a lead.  You just have a perverted mind, I was messing with you.”

“Um—sure,” Yuuji said.  That might just work.  ‘Kid said you told me too.’  Except Schuldig would get the real memory.  He was soooo dead.


	7. Seven

Yuuji's phone was ringing.  He fished around on the bedside table for it, then realized it was in his jacket, tossed over a chair or the bookcase or somewhere.  He groaned and tried to get up, but there was an Aya-size weight holding half his body down.  He raised his head to assess the situation, then sighed heavily and dragged his arm and leg out from under his sword happy team mate.  The phone had stopped ringing, then started again without the message left beep.  Never good.

                Aya grumbled something incomprehensible and pulled the blankets up over his head.

                "Well who's fault was it anyway?" Yuuji said, pulling the phone out of the pocket and discarding the jacket once more.  He thumbed the green icon.  "Yeah," his throat was dry.  He looked around and found--nothing. Not an open bottle in the place.  This cleaning up 'Yohji's' act thing had its down sides.  He headed for the bathroom down the hall.

                " _What were you thinking_?" Brad sounded like the iceberg that had taken out the Titanic might if it had a voice actor. 

                "Face it, no one wants me for my brain anymore, so why bother," Yuuji scratched a few things and made sure he was aiming properly.  With four guys in the place, it could get pretty skanky and Momoe-san had read them all the rules quite clearly.  Even Aya had been quailed by her baa-chan-foo.

                "I should have you arrested for corrupting a minor!"

                "What?" Yuuji made sure that last drip was in the bowl, then hit the button to flush.  "I didn't corrupt anyone, I was the one being corrupted!" He rinsed his hand off, then got a paper cup to fill and rinse his mouth out with.  Bleh! The water in Tokyo got worse tasting every year.  But at least, bonus, he didn't have a hangover this time.  He crumpled the paper cup to throw it in the basket and then bent to examine his face a little more closely in the mirror.  At least he didn't look quite so borderline crinkly as he had a few months ago.  He checked his arm and abdominal muscles, posing for better definition with the remaining lightbulb's increasingly dithery light. Someone needed to change out the other two. 

                " _Will you stop flirting with yourself and pay attention!_ " Crawford's angry snarl came from the phone he'd moved away from his ear to flex his biceps. 

                He put the phone back.  "I'm not flirting with myself, I'm making sure all the pieces are still there and in working order."  He made sure the lock was on the door, and sat down on the tub cover to try and wake up.  "I do so cherish these conversations, Sweetheart.  Me missing you, you threatening to kill me; good times." Ah, toenail clipping time again, he noted. But that meant sweeping up after himself.  Fuck it, he'd treat himself to a pedicure.  And a manicure, eugh, that nicotine.  "Do you have any idea how adorable you sound when you're in a towering rage?  Let's have phone sex."

                "You are not changing the subject by faking sex over the phone!" Brad hissed at him.  "Nagi could have been captured or killed on the spot!  He can't watch his own back when he's concentrating on using his power! If anything had happened to him--,"

                "You need to realize that being in love means _not_ using your common sense," Yuuji stated.  "The boy is having his first major crush, he's wobbling out of orbit; he's got Romeo-itus and it's bad.  Impending death is just part of the whole big romance picture. You can either go along with it and let it dry up when he realizes she's loonier than a ferret on crack, or you can chain him up in his room until he's out of his teens.  And you know how that will go down.   Don't you remember being that age?"

                "I was _never_ that age," Brad stated bluntly.

                Yuuji smiled fondly.  "Looking at my current driver's license, I think I must have been that age twice.  Let's have lunch today; just you and me.  I want to see you again." He did too; somehow hearing that voice always made him long for the man behind it.

                "After you were banging the hell out of Fujimiya half the night?  Why bother."

                "Don't be that way," Yuuji soothed. "Work is work.  Besides, he's like a girl with a strap on in bed, nothing like you at all.  You're my guy, we know each other so well--no one can replace that." 

                "How the hell do _you_ know what a girl with a strap on is like in bed?" came the question through gritted teeth.

                Whoops...."It's just a description," Yuuji said, standing up.  "Look, I'm already late for the petunias; lunch or not?"

                "Not!  Because right now if I see you, _you're_ _dead_ ," Brad snarled and the call was dropped.

                "Love you, too," Yuuji sighed and headed back to his room.

                "Put some clothes on, you pervert!" Ken clung to the wall in the hall way rather than risk naked guy cooties.

                "Did you hear what he called us, Mr. Penis?" 'Yohji' asked his member.  "Some people are just rude."  He lifted his dick in his fingertips and waved it at Ken.  " _Just rude!"_ he said in a squeaky voice.

                Ken didn't exactly scream and run, but there was a decided air of it going almost that far.  The bathroom door slammed behind him.

                Yuuji turned to see Omi staring at him in dismay and slapped his hand down to cover his genitals so fast he nearly caused himself to faint.  "I erm--yeah.  Going back to my room now."

                "Tell Aya he might as well get the walk of shame over with. He's late for work, too," Omi said, sounding almost as jaded as Nagi.  Perhaps a tad more bitter.

                "I um--we were--just talking.  All night.  About things," Yohji said.  "What are you thinking!" he rallied and demanded.

                "Not working this time, Kudoh," Omi said, dull eyed, and turned to go back down the stairs. 

                'Oh god, I think I just broke what little was left of his childhood,' Yuuji thought to himself in dismay. 

                At that moment, Aya yanked open his bedroom door and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him back in and slamming it. 

                *             *             *

                Brad was so mad he redid his tie three times before giving up and leaving it hanging.  He ate his cold toast in the manner of someone ripping out a throat with his bare teeth, and glared down the Tokyo Times Morning Edition as if each printed kanji was just asking to be burned to death.

                Schuldig held his second cup of coffee in both hands, elbows on the table, and watched him over it speculatively.  "I don't think I've ever seen you this mad."

                "Shut up," Brad ordered.

                Schuldig pursed his lips and considered this, then sipped more coffee. 

                After five minutes of absolute silence, Brad slammed down the paper and glared at him instead.  "Stop it!" he ordered.

                Schuldig raised his eyebrows. 

                "You never obey me when I want you to, so just stop it!  I don't need any more aggravation!"

                "You should hit the gym today.  We don't have anyone on the to-be-killed list and you need to take that out on someone before you blow a vein or something, " Schuldig advised.

                At this point, Nagi came out of his room put a book down on the table, and moved to get a bowl and a box of cereal out of the cupboard.

                Schuldig saw Brad's eyes narrow dangerously.  "So, what's this?" he picked up the book.  "A new hobby?" he waved it around, trying to distract Brad's laser death glare of doom.  "Origami Animals." He looked at the title. 

                Nagi sat down and poured milk on his bowl of empty carbs and sugar.  "I'm practicing." He stated. "You said to work on my fine control." He addressed Brad with preternatural calm.

                Schuldig blinked as the bowl of cereal was whisked up into the air to hover unharmed while Brad hit the shielding power full tilt.

                "Fuck, damn!" Brad sat down again, shaking his now brutalized hand. 

                The bowl of cereal floated back down gently for Nagi to put his spoon into it and scoop up a mouthful. 

                Schuldig got up to get an ice pack.  The refrigerator freezer was well stocked with them.  "Let me see," he said patiently.  Then when that didn't work, he grabbed the hand and put the ice pack on it gently.  "Idiot," he murmured under his breath, making sure nothing was broken.

                Nagi tossed his head to get his fringe out of his eyes.  "I want to at least _try_ ," he stated.  "You have to admit, she kicks ass, for a girl.  The whole baby talk thing is probably just compensation for whatever trauma put her in Masafumi's nut house.  She told me her real father was an evil man.  I don't like the sound of that, now that I think about it," he frowned.  Then he opened the book to the page he'd marked.   

                Brad was sulking; not something he did often or well, and usually while re-loading.   

                "We'd better get this in a bowl of ice," Schuldig got up again to set one up.  "It's a damned good thing you lead with your left and shoot with your right."  He put the mixing bowl full of ice and water on Farfarello's empty chair, then picked up Brad's hand and put it in it for him and held it there by the wrist.  "Alright, Brad, breath deep and get over it," he ordered.  "This is one time you're going to just have to let the kid do what he wants, and if he gets hurt, well, tough!"

                "And if the rest of us get killed or maimed in the process?"

                Schuldig frowned.  "Is that possible, or are you just exaggerating for the drama factor you always accuse me of?"

                Brad looked at him.  "Maybe."

                Schuldig looked at Nagi who was still eating and intent on the book's instructions for folding something.  "Nagi?" he said coolly.

                Nagi visibly waffled.  "I just want to--," he mumbled something into his cereal.

                "'Rescue her'," Schuldig informed Brad.  "Our little goth knight in black armor wants to storm the castle and save the princess."

                "She doesn't need rescuing; she needs putting down!" Brad said.  

                Nagi glared at him.

                "Unh-unh," Schuldig held up a warning finger at Nagi.  "You try it, no one survives.  This isn't a game, it's getting way too serious.  Do you really want to hurt everyone who cares for you because you can't have your way?"

                "He always gets to have his way!" Nagi protested. 

                "Fifteen, Twenty-erm--what is it--seven!" Schuldig pointed out.  "Kid, Team Leader," he pointed some more.  "Not to mention the guy who picked you up out of an alley when you were damned near dead!  Probably knowing deep down it was a mistake, because look where it came to."

                Nagi looked like he was about to cry and hating himself for it. 

                Brad just looked defused.  Mostly. 

                " _Now_ can I go back to being the immature one?" Schuldig sat down, finished.

                "Fine." Brad stated, flexing his fingers in the icewater. "Rescue her.  On your own time.  See where it gets you.  You can get yourself to a hospital to get the umberella out of your ass on your own, too."

                Nagi's lower lip wibbled, but he stuffed more cereal in his mouth to cover up. 

                "Tch!" Schuldig sneered and drank his coffee.  He didn't need to be a precog to know where this was going. 

 

                *             *             *

               

                Yuuji took advantage of a delivery he knew was out of their area to check the map search on the shop computer.  There were only a few addresses out there when he'd been directed to last night.  He picked up the phone again and hit the button to take the call off hold. "Sorry, Madam, that's just outside our area. I can give you the numbers of two shops who do serve that area."   "Well, I suppose we could deliver it to your friend and you could pick up there?"  "Yes, they'd last; our flowers are only the freshest.  Certainly, may I have your card number?" he typed in the order.  Damned word of mouth; keep this up and Kritiker would have to hire more assassins and open up more shops.  Still, opportunity, just when he'd needed it. 

                He just had to get out there and do some snooping around for the place Nagi had gone to.  Damn it, he thought.  Why not just call Brad and ask him where it was? 

                He bit his lower lip, considering the danger factor there.  First of all, Brad wanted them dead.  Second, he wanted them more dead than ever now, possibly along with a certain sexy blond hunk of un-willing double agent.

                Ankle socks flashed under an open car door, catching his eye through the glass beneath the pastel painted picnic bench. 

                "Oh shit,"he complained. 

                Aya looked up from an arrangement he was working on.  "Some days I'd like to just lock the door and stick my tongue out at her," he frowned.   

                "Oh, cheer up, you get to kill someone--Manx, have you finally come to your senses and come to beg me to take you away from all this?" he purred as she came in the door. 

               Way to make a guy feel like a sack of fertilizer come to life, he thought as she razed him to the ground with a glance.  She held up a disk envelope.  "Meeting. Now.  If the others aren't here, brief them later.  Kritiker needs the whole team in on this one."

                "It's Shrient, isn't it?" Yohji stated.

                She looked at him with suspicious curiosity.  "Good guess?  Or do you know something we don't?"

                "Experience," he said honestly.  "It's not even noon time, Omi's at school and Ken's on deliveries. It had to be something important to show up this early, and you want all four of us."

                Kritiker's spies had been tracking a series of chemical and lab equipment purchases in shipments that were suspiciously like the ones that had previously been traced going going to Masafumi's first laboratory.  The problem being that they'd been sent to a series of blind addresses, another warehouse to be picked up and moved on.  It had taken some weeks to trace the logistics of doubling back and miss-deliveries that had been deliberate.  The advantage of the general honesty of Japanese people that the packages had been sent back as wrong or tracked to the 'right address' and helpfully dropped off, or called for with apologies for the mistake by a handy temp worker.  Rather like the floral order 'Yohji' had set up earlier. 

                Still, all through the ranting of useless data, Yuuji could only think he still wanted to call Brad on this one. 

                Aya's knee was poking him in the thigh; he being sitting half sideways with his leg under him so that it could 'accidentally' make contact with Yohji.  Every time Manx turned to indicate something on the Smart Board, Aya looked at him slyly sideways from under his fringe. 

                Something was brewing in that auburn head. 

                But Yuuji had another problem to consider.  If Weiss was actually going after Shrient at this point, that meant the lunatic bunny girl was fair game.  And that meant Nagi was not going to be happy.  Brad would be happy, no problem.  Making sure the girl survived--big problem, both to Weiss and Brad.  Not happy Brad meant not happy Yuuji.  Yuuji pouted thoughtfully. 

                Aya poked Yohji in the thigh again with his knee, and raised his eyebrows at him over the pout. 

                "Manx--," Yohji threw any hope of collecting retirement from Kritiker away (probably), "The youngest girl--."

                "What about her?" Manx asked pointedly. 

                "I don't think she's mentally competent," Yohji pressed onward bravely.  "I won't kill a child who's not responsible for her actions from having been brain washed to work for an evil man.  We have no idea of how they got hold of her in the first place; who she really is, or if her family has been desperately searching for her for who knows how long."  'Little to close for comfort there, Manx-y?' he thought, watching the look of shock flash across her face. 

                Then she tightened up into her perfectly made up mask again.  "If you think you can capture her alive, then do so.  Kritiker will see to it that her family is located or the circumstances at least sorted out.  Until then she'll be under medical care."

                Aya glared at him. 

                One less body to hack up, Yohji mentally sighed.  Like taking candy from a spoiled brat.  Now to figure out how to keep her from getting killed anyway, and, even more complicated, how to hand her over to Brad as a peace offering of sorts. 

                'There goes my car,' he thought miserably. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passing wink and nod at that ridiculous manga, Chinko no Tsubuyaki.


	8. Eight

                "Happy now," Schuldig commented, noting the triumphantly evil look on Brad's face.  They were parked on a side street, as close to the corner as possible without attracting too much attention from the traffic warden. 

                "Ec-sta-tic," Brad watched  Manx drive away from the flower shop in her little Toyota. "Why play chess when you can fuck with the world?"

                "So now you're cheating on me with the whole world?" Schuldig teased slyly. 

                "Very funny," Brad picked his phone up out of the console.  "Now we mess things up just a little more." He found a contact and pressed the call button.  "Crawford here.  There's going to be a raid on the hospital to retrieve the girl.  Move her quickly, but without a lot of fuss.  Never mind Kritiker, destroy one of the machines so you have an easy excuse." He ended the call and put the phone in his jacket's inner breast pocket, then turned the key in the ignition.  The BMW started so silently only the little dash lights indicated it was running at all.

                “And the Tot issue?” Schuldig asked.

                Brad paused, hand on the parking brake release.  “There are a number of scenarios I don’t like.  Unfortunately the least of all the evils is the most annoying.” 

                “Isn’t that the way it always is,” Schuldig was thinking of Sarazawa.  “As much as I’d like to just shoot her in the head, Nagi is one of us.  You don’t like my sense of fashion, I don’t like your pigheaded self centrism, and Farfarello’s obsession with killing religious hypocrites is nerve wracking at times.  It’s only fair that Nagi have some fatal flaw that keeps him human.” He rubbed the side of his head, then fluffed his hair and looked out the window with bored eyes.  He sighed.  “On the other hand, I may cut my hair, dye it brown and move in with Weiss, too.” 

                “On one condition,” Brad hadn’t been listening to him.  “The umbrellas go.  Ridiculous weapon,” he released the brake and eased the car into traffic.

                Schuldig rolled his eyes and gave up. 

                “Now find that Tomoe girl; we’re going to need a body double.”

              Schuldig turned sharply to stare at him.  “That’s three we’re juggling now!  Where the hell are we going to put _her_?”

               “In the hospital Kritiker thinks the Fujimiya girl has been moved to.  Come to think of it, that blue hair has to go, too.  We could switch the Fujimiya girl for Tot, Tot for Fujimiya, and—no wait, then we don’t need Tomoe Sakura,” he frowned.   

                “Someone needs lunch,” Schuldig stated.           

                “And more duct tape.”

                *             *             *

                "Hnn," Aya was saying into the phone when Yohji came back from the store.  He looked worried as hell, not a normal Aya face.  "I understand. Thank you."  "I'll be there tomorrow." " Afternoon?  Yes." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. "Thank you." He set the phone back into the holder with a shaky sigh.

             "What's up?" Yohji asked, taking the floral arranging supplies out of the plastic bag and refilling the work station.  Thin wires, plastic, and wood stem stakes, green paper tape; _someone_ had forgotten to order the weekly supplies on time and they'd been pretty much out of everything after a run caused by a pre-engagement dinner's lavish demands.  

             Aya was silent so long, at first he thought the younger man wasn't going to answer, which would have been more normal for Aya.  But then he spoke, "They had to move my sister to another hospital.  The equipment broke down in another room, and she was the only patient stable enough to transfer so they could switch machines."

                "Ah," Yohji said, going over to his side.  "Is this a big problem, or just a little inconvenience?"

                Aya looked glum, poking at the arrangement of branches and tiny orchids. He picked up a pebble from the decorative shallow dish and dropped it, picked it up and dropped it, the click sounding like Go stones.  "I was frightened for a few minutes when I heard it was the hospital, before they explained," he said quietly.  "It brought everything back."

                'Yuuji' assessed the situation and did what he did best.  He reached across Aya's back to give his shoulders a gentle hug.  "Come on, let's get you a cup of tea. I could use a coffee, too." He glanced up at the clock on the wall.  They had a little over an hour until the after school invasion.  

                He got Aya into the kitchen and sat him down, then filled the electric pot and set it to heat. He started getting the cups and things out. 

                "Yohji..." Aya said, then fell silent again.

                Tea bag in one cup, a filter in the drip coffee stand over his own, just waiting it out.  Sooner or later, the dam would break. 

                Aya finally said, " My little sister is in what's called a persistent vegetative state. It's all motor response but no brain waves.  She breaths on her own, most of the time. Sometimes she opens her eyes, or smiles or makes small sounds.  She can grasp a bit weakly with her hands; but other than all that, nothing," he faltered, then gathered himself up inside again.  "I don't think I can deal with it much longer.”

                Yuuji turned to look at him.  "How bad is she really, Aya?" he asked quietly.  "Why are they keeping her alive?"

                "Because they can," Aya whispered.  "But I've read everything I could.  The longer this goes on, the less likely she'll ever really wake up."

                Yuuji turned to press the spout button on the hot water pot, filling Aya's handle-less tea mug.  He set it in front of the distraught younger man along with a small dish to catch the used bag.  "You must have been given a lot of hope by the doctors in the first place, to sign up with Kritiker to pay the bills."

                "I had to do something!  It wasn't just my sister's hospital bills.  The bank said my father had been embezzling money.  I don't believe it, or that he would do so willingly.  Takatori had an interest in destroying him for some reason.  If he'd _gone along_ with something criminal, then why kill him and my mother.  But it seems like--everyone who works for Kritiker has had something awful happen. And if Manx says Kritiker will take care of Tot--if her family is out there, I can't help wondering--will they ever find out their girl is alive?  And how will they deal with what she’s been turned into?"

                Yuuji started to drizzle the hot water over his coffee and wait for it to sink through the grinds into the cup.  "I'm inclined based on previous performance to say--no." he stated.  "My guess is they'll turn her over to Dr. Hiroshigi, and she'll be turned into another good little kitten.  That is, if she's not so nuts they can't work with her." He half turned to look at Aya.  "This is some crazy limbo we're in.  You and your sister; the rest of us and our pasts--or great big missing chunks of them."  He looked down to fill the filter again.  "Are any of us who we pretend to be?"

                "You've stopped pretending, haven't you?" Aya said, his voice strong again.

                Yuuji froze for a moment, then drew a breath.  He set the drip holder in the sink and took his coffee to the table.  There was nothing too alarming in the look Aya was giving him, but the remark had given him quite a startle.  He wasn't used to be found out.  If that was what this was.

                "You've changed, since those headaches.  Since you went to the doctor and warned me about him.  I haven't been here long, but the others have been commenting on it.  It's like there's a switch somewhere; off and on.  You did it today with Manx, you switched back to the old Yohji. This other guy, he’s the real you, isn’t he?” 

                Yuuji eased himself down into the chair, giving himself time to think about how to respond to this.  “So who’s the real you, Aya?” he smiled gently.  Somewhere in that angry 19 year old was a heartbroken 16 who’s world had come crashing down.  He wasn’t a wounded animal, he was a young man who would respond to a soft word and gentle touch, if his own over active fight or flight switch could be flipped to off.  But once he had the guy, then what?  Fujimiya wasn’t his goal.  Truth be told, his only goal here was to stay put in a cushy situation and await the end of the world as Esset knew it.  Cold hard sexy Brad Crawford was going to bring down the ‘gods’, and Yuuji was pretty sure he could do it, too. 

                “I don’t know,” Aya held his tea cup in both hands on the table, siphoning the heat from it into an ice cold body.  “I feel so trapped, but I can’t begin to think of getting out of the cage.  I ran away before; you ought to know, you and the others caught me.  I didn’t get very far,” his eyes slid away to focus on the floor.  “Suicide—isn’t the answer.  Not until every last member of Takatori Reiji’s family is dead.”

                “It’s not magic, your sister won’t just wake up because the man who destroyed your family is killed,” Yuuji said carefully.  He was beginning to suspect something.  His mission to Tokyo, the explosion that had burned down the Fujimiya house—the explosion that had pretty much blown _him_ up—not good.  If Schuldig’s suspicion was correct— _he_ had no choice in this, and he didn’t like that. Now he had a hint of why Brad hated being held to the timelines his visions proved was there.  It was a creepy, slippery fact of physics and he didn’t like to think about it anymore than he had wanted to fuck with ‘string theory’ in school. 

                Instinct kicked in.  If it bent the rules like a talent, it was a talent.  He’d been so caught up in his own problems (and Yohji’s induced problems!) all along he hadn’t given the problem of Fujimiya Aya a thought.  Was it Aya’s ‘luck’ at work?  Was Esset even aware of the guy?  After all, they hadn’t gone out of their way to kill the _one guy_ who was most likely to be the pivotal factor in the majority of their road blocks in Japan.  Bet Brad hadn’t seen that one coming.  Click, click, click, like Aya’s fiddling with the stone in the dish, things were falling into place in Yuuji’s Esset trained mind like binary code.

                “I’m stuck here until I get killed,” Aya said dully.  He finally took the bag out to set it on the little dish and sipped his green tea.

                In Yuuji’s mind a rapid replay of every time he had seen Aya nearly got spectacularly killed played out; right down to Masafumi’s tentacle striking off his collar bone into the shoulder rather than the aimed for heart when one of them, he hadn’t seen who, had been thrown backwards into the ‘monster’ and jarred his aim. 

                He set his coffee cup down again. 

                And made up his mind to kill Aya. 

                As his fingertips clasped the watch button that was actually the weight on his garroting wire, just before the muscles in his wrist could even begin to flex for the motion to draw it out, there was a loud commotion outside. The spluttering roar of a motorcycle echoing off the service alley walls. In the time he would have been around the table and the wire around Aya’s throat, Ken burst in, tossing his helmet on the counter with a clatter.  “Traffic’s hell out there!” He was too noisy in the small kitchen; too loud and just Ken.  He opened the fridge for a bottle of cold water, yanking the top off and glugging it half down. 

                Yohji took his fingers off the weight and reached for his cup again.  Hmm.

                                                *             *             * 

                Two hours later, Omi barged in to the middle of them having what _was_ going to be the last, best orgasm Aya ever had to tell them the pipes in the kitchen had burst and demand to know where the main shut off valve was.  Yuuji drew his hands off where they had just slid round Aya's throat, pressing his mouth over the throbbing vein there.  Omi voiced the need to burn his own eyes out with a blow torch, but left the damned door open as he ran down the stairs again.

                Aya reached up to touch his face with the barest brush of his hand, and Yuuji put all that built up effort back to work a little lower down.

                                                *             *             *

                An hour after that, when they were getting ready for the mission, Yohji ‘misfired’his projectile wire while ‘testing it’.  Aya dropped his car keys at the same moment, and in a hurry already, dove to pick them up.

                “Watch it, Kudoh!” Ken swore as the weight thudded a hole through his leather jacket as he was putting it on.

                Yuuji got the wire extricated and retracted, thinking ruefully about the whole thing.

                Aya thumped him on the shoulder in passing with the back of his gloved fist.  Yuuji looked into  purple eyes and caught a glimpse of something 'other' beneath the burgundy fringe.  

                The abyss was watching him. 


	9. Nine

                "I always hated Shakespeare," Brad murmured in the darkness.  "Load of pretentious nonsense in celebration of useless anachronism." They were poised on a hill side overlooking the mansion, which wasn't actually visible through the trees surrounding it. 

                "I see your point," Schuldig commented.  He was picking up Schrient, Weiss, and Nagi all moving around inside and outside the country mansion, but for some reason, no hired guards. Apparently Schrient felt capable of taking care of things all by their dainty little selves.  The grounds were littered with booby-traps, according to Brad.  (Heheh, he thought privately, ‘ ‘booby’, cause you know, 'girls.’) "By the way, if I'm Puck, does that make you Titania?"

                Brad shot him a scathing glance.  "Go smother yourself."

                Schuldig crossed his arms, "Only if I can delusion Sarazawa into thinking he's got the head of a jackass first"

                Brad laughed softly.  "He'd only use it as an excuse." He pulled out his gun and checked it, the mechanical action of a self comfort habit. "Farfarello, slip around the back; get in there and take out that tank they have Masafumi in. It looks like they've found a way to reverse at least some of the effect of that potion." He slid the gun back into his shoulder holster.  "Shall we, Gentlemen?"

                Farfarello darted off like a hunting hound, the faint hiss of a branch falling back into place behind him and then silence. 

                /Notify Sarazawa we're here,/ Brad ordered. /And _no_ , you can't give him a raging headache along with it./ 

                Schuldig sulked and did as he was told.  They started quietly down through the woods to the main grounds, avoiding the traps Brad had detected beforehand.  He hoped Farfarello wouldn’t just set one off for the self amusement of it. 

                /And _remind_ him that Nagi is going to be the one to deal with Tot. He's to keep away from the both of them; focus on Helle and Schoen.  And tell him to watch that web of trip wires he's about to walk into, unless he wants to blow himself up again!/

                *             *             *

                "That bastard Crawford," Helle complained, taking her glasses off to clean them, then put them back on again.  "He's the one behind all this.  Weiss would have never found us in the first place if there wasn’t a leak somewhere." She took the slide out of the electronic microscope and set it in the rack with the others with a frustrated huff of breath.

                "Do you really think it was he who had the Fujimiya girl moved?" Schoen turned to look at her. 

                "At this point I suspect him of anything," Helle turned the microscope off and rubbed her aching temple.  "We'll have to run the tests again tomorrow.  The formula has definitely stopped working at this point.  No change at all for the past three days. What are we missing here?  There's got to be something that will clean the side effects from his system without taking away the properties that are helping him heal."

                "Well there’s nothing more we can do tonight," Schoen said, shutting down the blood separator she’d been working with to prepare the slides.  "Tot, Hon, will you check the mice and make sure they have enough water?"

                "They've worked so hard today, they're going to thirsty!" the girl said brightly, hopping up from the chair she'd been sitting in at the counter. 

                "And don't forget, the test cages need _fertilizer_ , not food.  No slipping them candy again." Helle warned. 

                "Awe, but they like candy!" Tot protested

                "You know it will throw the results off if you tamper with their diet."

                Tot pouted and skipped over to open the door to the temperature controlled room full of cages. 

                "She's slipping more and more," Schoen said quietly to Helle in English so Tot wouldn’t understand what they were saying.  "If this keeps up she'll tamper with too much to even let her in the lab."

                "It's the stress," Helle said.  "And I'd rather keep her under foot where I can watch her..."

                A explosion booming in from the woods to the lower end of the property drew them both to the open window.  Flames caught in the evergreen trees.  Fortunately the recent rains had damped everything down or they would have had a raging forest fire on their hands.

                "Is it possible?" Schoen asked.  "Weiss?"

                "That was too big an explosion of the devices to be just an animal tripping one wire.  Don't drop your guard," Helle said.  "Let's check the security cameras.  Tot--," she turned to look at the open door to the animal room. 

                Schoen went to look in.  "Tot?  Where did she go?"

                Helle frowned.  "Damn it, if she thinks Weiss is out there—she's gone for them."

 

                "Security cameras," Yohji said quietly, spotting the shine of one as the tiny motor rotating it brought the lens into the moonlight. They’d come over the electric fence in a rather unnecessarily creative way, he thought; but let the amateurs have their fun.  He would have just jump wired the fence and cut an opening.  After all, the cables and cutter were in his car.  Ah well.

                "Over there, too," Omi indicated the corner of a second floor roof line of the late Meiji era building.

                "It's not safe for us to move as a group," Aya muttered.

                "If we go  in there, they could knock all of us out at once," Ken stated, being ‘Cpt. Obvious’ again. 

                "We should split up," Omi said, crouching in the bushes nearby.   

                'Yohji' snatched at the opportunity.  "I'll be the distraction. I'll make a big scene and distract them."  The better to make good use of the explosives he'd liberated from the traps in the woods behind them before triggering the rest. /Where is Nagi?/ he thought, hoping that weird feeling in the corner of his skull meant the red head was still lurking.  He wasn't paying attention to what Ken and Omi were protesting about, not that their opinions mattered at this point. 

                /Off to the side where the over grown tennis court is, dithering, since you fools decided to make a big entrance./

               "Pull yourself together, and be careful!" Aya hissed into 'Yohji's' ear from behind, and slipped off around the house. 

                               

                "You have to listen to me seriously, Tot," Nagi insisted as quietly as he could keep himself despite the silly trembling in every part of his body.  He was half thrilled, half terrified at being face to face with her this close, her eyes boring into his.  "You can't fight Weiss all by yourself.  Come with me, save yourself."

                "I can't leave Helle and Schoen behind to fight by themselves! Weiss killed Neu!" she protested in a squealing voice loud enough to alert the whole country side.

                Nagi frowned and froze her in place with his talent, careful not to hold her too tight and hurt her.  "Helle and Schoen can take care of themselves."

                "No, let me go!  Stop it!  Let me go!" she protested, realizing he was the cause of her inability to move her feet and arms. 

                "Tot, please," Nagi begged.  "I'm trying to save you!"

                "Why are you doing this!" she continued to struggle.  "Nagi-kun, let me go!"

                "I don't want you to die," he insisted desperately.  "Come with me, _please!_ "

                She stopped fighting, looking at him.  "Nagi-kun..."

                He wrestled with his feelings.  Maybe she was right, maybe he had to let her go fight with her friends.  If he were in her place--.

                "Nagi-kun--," she leaned closer a bit as his power slacked up, her eyes almost closed, her lips half open. 

                His brain lit up like a pin ball machine.  Was she going to--was this _it_? 

                He leaned in close, too, and promptly lost his balance, bumping into her nose with his cheekbone.  His control dropped completely as he blushed furiously.  She shook it off, giggling, then caught him by the shoulders and kissed him on the lips.  It was kind of awkward and very sweet, due to her shiny, strawberry flavored lip gloss. 

                "When we've had our revenge on Weiss, we can be together, Nagi-kun.  Until then, I have to fight beside my friends," she started to turn away. 

                Nagi felt his heart throbbing wildly, too confused to react quickly enough at first, but—

                She went flying into the weeds, landing flat full length on her face and hard enough to knock the air out of her.

                "Seriously," Yuuji said, pulling his leg back from where he'd kicked her feet out from under her as she’d ran.  "Here, Kid," he tossed Nagi a roll of duct tape. "And no funny stuff once you've got her tied up," he warned before disappearing back into the bushes.

                " _Jerk!"_ Nagi accused, then hurried to check on Tot.  She was getting just up on her hands and knees, gasping for air.  "Sorry, Tot, but this is for your own good," he put the power clamp on her again, just firmly enough to keep her from fighting him off.  "And maybe for the rest of us, too," he pulled out a length of tape and bit a tear starter to put a strip across her mouth.

                "Mmmph!" she protested, wide eyed. 

                "I should have know he'd do it his own way," Crawford came into the clearing just then.  "Hurry up and get her tied up.  Put her in the trunk of the car with the other one." He shoved his hair back out of his eyes.  "Honestly, this is getting to be more and more of a damned farce by the minute."

                "Interference doesn’t count! I _tried_ to do it all myself," Nagi stated, wrapping up her wrists in front of her.  "Breath slow and stop fighting it, or you'll choke!" he warned her.  “You're going to get saved whether you like it or not.  I'm not putting her in the trunk of the car." He told Crawford.

                "Tch, I can tell Schuldig is going to have to do some work on _her_ , too," Brad said in disgust. “I’m going to kill him,” meaning Sarazawa.  He hurried back through the bushes.

                 "Did you hurt your ankle?" Nagi asked Tot, solicitously checking them, in a purely medically related way, of course.

                "MMMPH MMMM  MMMPH!" she was angry at him. 

                It was sooo cute!  He blushed madly.  He hoped this wasn’t the start of actually _liking_ to tie girls up, because that would be _super_ _gross_.  But she did look awfully cute.  And maybe he could just—you know—accidently touch her boob.  No, that would be—well, he’d better get her into the car.  But he might for really accidently—better not think about things like that, the way—nope, too late.  He sighed as his pants got too tight yet again.  Stupid thing!  He hoped she wouldn't notice in the dark. 

 

                Brad blocked Hell’s retreat on the upper landing of the staircase.  “Now, now, it’s not ladylike to flee from a battle.”

                She skidded to a halt, “You!”

                “And after I went through so much trouble to arrange this little party.  You’re not a very good hostess,” Brad’s gun was aimed at her chest.  “Is it so wise to leave your boyfriend down there all by himself, where that tank could be—destroyed?” he said as a crash of glass came. 

                “Masafumi!” Helle cried out, turning to look back toward the stairs.  “No!”

                Farfarello had done his job while Weiss were dealing with Schoen and god knows what other mindless horrors hanging around down there.  Brad put his gun away, having prevented a retreat to a fortified ‘safe room’ the women might just have survived the coming destruction in.  /Schuldig?/

                /No one is getting into this room now,/ Schuldig reported.  He’d fried the control panel so it wouldn’t accept any code and fused the wires so they couldn’t be jumped. 

                /Move it! Sarazawa’s set the bombs on the main load bearing walls./

                /I know, he’s just given us about three minutes to get out,/ Schuldig thought back with a rueful over tone.  /Brad, he’s dead set on pulling Fujimiya out of this./ 

                /Too bad I didn’t think to bring the Tomoe girl into this!/ Brad complained.  /We might have convinced Fujimiya his sister had died in the blaze./

                /But you said if they used the Fujimya girl…/

                /Never mind what I _said_ , it was just a passing thought!  I _can_ have passing thoughts, you know!/

                /Sure, just like I can wear paisley with plaid,/ Schuldig retorted. 

                Brad’s brain went into the red zone.  /No, you can’t!/  He was heading for the balcony with the stairs down to the back yard.

                /Yes, I can./ The brief feeling of falling was transferred with the thought as Schuldig jumped down from the balcony.

                /Why would you want to do it in the first place!/ Brad demanded, hopping the balustrade to land beside him a little more awkwardly.

                /Because it messes up peoples heads the way they mess up mine!/ the telepath thought back at him, the ‘wave’ of it across Brad’s conscious mind bringing with it a mixture of anger and revenge.

                Well, that explained that, he thought, a bit surprised.  /Just move your ass, Schuldig!  And Farfarello, DO NOT lick that sai!  It’s probably got chemicals on it that will make you grow tentacles!/

                /Eugh, too late,/ Schuldig moaned. 

                /It tasted like Naked wheat grass juice,/ Farfarello reported, mildly curious. 

               

                *             *             *

 

                “Yohji, when did you start just blowing things up?” Ken asked, shoving aside the beam. They’d gotten into the big old style fire place just in time for the stone surround to protect them from the flaming collapse of the main house. 

                “When people started just leaving bombs all over,” Yuuji said, his first thoughts for Aya, damn it.  Was it _all_ just Aya's preposterous talent?  Was he really caught up in someone else’s random ‘gift’ of natural selection, unable to make his own choices so Aya would be saved?   Even to the point of who he went to bed with?  No fair! 

                Aya shoved aside a load of fallen bricks, having put his leather clad arm over his head to protect it.  _Of course_ he was unharmed except for a few minor bruises and scratches that would just emphasize his cheek bones and thus his spectacular eyes.  Yuuji had first thought they were contacts, but then on close inspection, they were really brown threaded with enough blue to make them appear purple from a short distance when the light was right.  Like in the light of a big house on fire. 

                That creepy purple-black light danced faintly in Aya’s pupils as he held up a hand for Yuuji to help pull him to his feet. 

                “Guys, we have to get out of here,” Omi said. 

                “Oh, Jesus Christ!” Ken moaned in disgust and looked away as Aya grabbed Yohji and proceeded to suck face.  “Do you guys _have_ to do that?  Fucking _Gay_.”

                  “Ken-kun,” Omi chastised.  “Don’t be judgmental. Probably half the guys on your soccer team were gay, that’s not your concern.” He picked his way over a fallen beam, assessing the worst parts of the fire around them, looking for a path out.  It was getting awfully hot.

                “To hell it wasn’t, I had to change, and shower, in the same rooms with those guys!”

                “I’m sure no one was even thinking of you,” Omi informed him dryly.  “We’d better go that way, it looks like it’s burning itself out,” he pointed to where the flames were less enthusiastic around an ex-doorway, or maybe it had been a large window.  “Are you two going to wait until you get a room, or just do it right here!” he demanded of Aya and Yohji.

                Yohji managed to pull free. “Is it hot in here or just me?” he half laughed at Aya.

                “Shut the fuck up, Kudoh,” Aya rumbled, annoyed by the awfulness of the pick up line/pun. 

                “We should make sure Schrient didn’t get out of here,” Omi stated, trying to keep them ‘on mission’ despite the misbehavior going on. 

                “I doubt it,” Yuuji said, knowing from Schuldig that their last ‘screams’ had been screamed as they went up in flames.  “This was Masafumi,” he nudged a blackened skull away from a pile of sludge and what looked like crude oil.  “And he was down here with us.” And there was enough accelerant in the old wooden built place to turn it into a pyre. 

                “Omi’s right, we need to just get out of here.” Aya said as another beam cracked like a log in a fireplace 20 feet high and thudded down to one side. 

                Yuuji decided to stick a little closer to ‘Lucky’ Fujimiya, for his own sake.


	10. 10

                "Did anyone see Tot in all this?" Omi asked, sounding a bit worried as they headed back toward where their vehicles were parked.  

                "When I was coming through the side courtyard," Yohji said honestly, "I saw her with a boy about her age.  They were arguing.  Maybe she took off with him."

                "Ppfft, some girls," Ken commented.  "You'd think she'd stick with her team."

                Yuuji wanted to smack him, but that would be counterproductive.  Instead he kept his thoughts to himself as they hiked back to the cars.  Sirens began to sound in the distance.  The neighbors must have reported the explosions and the fires.  It looked like the one in the woods had died out of its own accord. 

                Aya had gone quiet again, the way he usually did post  mission mayhem.  Yuuji let him stay that way, maybe he had some things to think about, too, after that kiss.

                And he had to face up to his own problem.

                /Schuldig?/

                It look a moment but the telepath was still near.

                /Yes?/ came a cat-like hiss in his mind.

                /Tell Brad I want to meet him later.  It's important.  I'll call when I can--but it's got to be tonight, okay, Red?/

                /I'll tell him./ the odd out of place sensation was gone. 

*             *             *

                Brad had watched Schuldig 'step out' for a moment, and waited, fiddling with the keys in his hand as they stood beside the car.  "What is it?" he asked when the telepath blinked.

                "Yuuji wants to meet you later," Schuldig looked at him over the hood of the car.

                Brad sensed something was not happy here.  "And?"

                "He said he'd call when he could.  I've got the impression it's bad news," Schuldig put his hand on the passenger side door handle. 

                Brad drew a slow breath and let it out.  "Well then, let's go home.  We have our 'guests' to settle in."  He opened the driver's side door and slid in to the seat.

                A frown twitched Schuldig's lips.  "And I have a major headache to achieve," he said glumly opening the door on his side.

*             *             *

                Neither one of them was about to give up the keys to their cars, so while Aya ferried Omi home, Yuuji was left on his own.  It wasn't a happy drive.  He almost, _almost_ stopped for a pack of cigarettes and a bottle, he was so depressed. "That's not ME!" he told himself loudly over the noise of the road beneath the open car.  What he _really_ wanted to do was just turn the damned wheel and head for the hotel.  What he wanted was his own life back!

                He tried to sort it out rationally, but it didn't work.  He'd been knocked on his ass, obviously thus suffering brain damage.  That was something Brad would say, and in fact, as he recalled now, often had.  See, that was the problem.  This big Brad shaped hole, like a double barrel shot gun blast. 

                The 'thing' they'd had, the arrangement, the whatever it was that Brad wouldn't call Love; it had worked because in their own way, they were true to each other.  High school sweethearts; idiots and fools together.  All those memories came back so damned easily now.  A song, an image, triggered memories of things they'd laughed about, talked about, maybe been too damned serious, or not serious enough about.  Nights arguing over drinks and darts, the bar room brawls.  Staying up all night cramming for finals in classes they'd cheated and skipped their way through all semester.  He remembered sitting on the ring side, high on blood thirst, yelling " _kill him!_ " when Brad competed in boxing bouts.  He remembered the adrenaline boost the sound of Brad's cheers coming through the noise of the crowd gave him when he was taking the still rings, pommels and vaults; the only one pair of eyes he looked for and found when he landed on his feet and took his bows.  And because it was, after all, Rosencruz, they each knew the one guy they could count on to help bury a body and keep his mouth shut. 

                It wasn't fair.  It. Just. Wasn't. Fair. 

                He pulled the car over before he wrecked it and put his head down on the hands grasping the steering wheel.  "Fuck it," he thought.  "Fuck it all!" For _once_ he was crying over the _real_ misery in his life; stone cold sober, no false additions.  He got out of the car to walk around to the road side, arms crossed, holding himself together, letting the pain burn through himself, letting it wash him numb.

                *             *             *

                "The neighbors are not happy with us," Schuldig informed Brad. 

                "I don't care," he said.  "We'll move them someplace else tomorrow."

                "The girls or the neighbors?" Schuldig asked, speculating on the interesting connotations.

                "The _girls,_ " Brad looked at him.  "Do something about food, I'm starved."

                "Jawohl, mein mann," Schuldig saluted, then switched languages. "I will put on the apron and get in the kitchen and make you a sandwich, bitch."

                "Please don't mix American idioms with your German," Brad drawled. 

                "What, you don't like my sexy foreign accent?" Schuldig teased, still in English. 

                Brad impulsively grabbed him and pulled him close, fox trotting him around for a few steps, then kissed him on the fore head, the tip of his nose, and his lips.  "I like your sexy foreign everything," he growled in German, "But I'm still hungry," he drew back and let Schuldig go.  "Nagi!  Get out here, and shut that door!  This isn't a pajama party!  Farfarello, you're on guard duty, since it's your room they're locked up in."

                The Irishman didn't look too happy about being relegated to a sofa for the night, but there it was.  For this imposition, the TV remote was his alone tonight, and god help anyone who thought otherwise. 

                Nagi looked somewhere between irritated and worried.  "Tomoe-san is terrified, but Tot is just angry as hell.  What if she gets loose and hurts the girl?"

                "Then you'll marry the winner, yes?" Schuldig slapped him on the shoulder.  "What do you want for dinner?" he walked over to the counter and picked up a sheaf of take out menus, flipping through them.

                "I thought you were going to cook," Brad said.

                Schuldig picked up the phone and waggled it, "This is me, cooking," he put it on his shoulder, closed his eyes and pulled out a menu at random.  "And the lucky winner is," he peeked, "--Italian!"

                "Joy," Brad said sarcastically, then brightened up a little.  "Order some dessert.  That lemon tart thing we had last time.  After all, it's a celebratory evening.  Young Nagi here has kidnapped his first woman; today he is 'a man™'."

                " _Wrongness_!" Nagi protested.  "Anyway, I want the chocolate tiramisu, and something chicken without a lot of cheese. You guys are freaks," he glared at them both, then went to his room and shut the door just hard enough to let them know he was definitely not happy with them. 

                "For that, I'll get the cheeziest thing on the menu," Schuldig threatened, dialing the number.

                "Don't make things any harder on the boy," Brad advised.

                "You're right, we would only suffer too," Schuldig shooed him away with the menu.  "Yes, I'd like an order to be delivered," he said into the phone. 

                *          *          *

          Yuuji walked in the back door of the shop to find Aya waiting for him, sitting at the kitchen table; his cell phone and the newspaper crossword puzzle for company.  He'd taken his coat off, and switched the motorcycle boots for house slippers, but that was all.  He still wore his chopped sweatshirt and black jeans.  They made his pale skin appear even more so. 

          "What took you so long?" his tone was neutral.   

           "Went for a drive," Yuuji said.  "Trying to clear my head a little."

           Aya sat there, looking up at him.

           Yuuji wished he could read minds.  "Have you eaten yet?"

           "Not hungry." Aya looked down at the crossword.

            "Come out with me," Yuuji said.  "I--there's something I need to say.  I don't want the others to interupt us."

             *       *       *

          "Shit!" Brad exclaimed in the middle of dinner and grabbed his phone out of his pocked so roughly he nearly dropped it, startling the others. He hit a speed dial and nearly lost his mind at the slow ringing through of the call.  "Don't you do it!" he warned the minute it connected. " _Don't you dare fucking do it!_ "

          *          *          *

          Yuuji sat there not replying to the call for a moment, not even to greet the caller.  Then finally he said "Maybe--it's time we--"

           "No! _No_ ," Brad's voice caught, then he breathed harshly on the phone.  "I lied.  Don't _do_ this."

          Yuuji pushed his hair back, trapped by everything; the past, Aya's eyes on him, the voice in his ear, the ache in his heart. He closed his eyes, shutting out the universe.  "I--," he tried again.

          "I don't want to loose you again."

           Yuuji opened his eyes, looking up blindly at the ceiling.  The tears only started again, despite his trying to hide them.  "You won't.  But things change." He couldn't quite get enough breath behind the words. "Things--change.  You know?"

          Silence.

          "You've got to look at what you've got." Yuuji told him.  "I'm here, that's not going to, but everything else has to.  The pain has to stop.  You know?" he begged.  It felt like everything was in slow motion, hours stretched out.  He waited and waited and waited....

          "It doesn't mean I have to like it!" Brad finally said, sounding miserable.

           "Yeah," Yuuji laughed harshly, wiping his cheek on the back of his hand.  "It hurts like that first bullet.  How's the little guy?"

             "Handling it like a 15 year old," he could hear the tension letting up just a little in Brad's tone.  "If I don't see you later, all bets are off.  I _will_ hunt you down."

            "Yeah, okay," Yuuji agreed.  "I'm still there for you, 'kay?  You know that."

            "All the stupid codes--yeah, _okay_." Brad said.  "Just--keep your shit together and don't fuck this up.  It'll be over in two days.  Fujimiya's going to run you through in about five minutes, you might want to head that off before you piss me off again."

            "Yeah," Yuuji drew a shaky breath.  "Later."  He pressed the call end button.

          The way Aya was glaring at him, who needed a warning?

          "Break up call," Yohiji said with a sad smile. "I--ah--." he tossed the phone in his hand a couple of times, looking anywhere but at Aya, then slid it into his back pocket.  "H--She's--um--. Married.  To a really nice guy.  And--I'm through being an asshole.  People just have to--stop fucking around and put things right."

            Aya got up and came to put his arm around him awkwardly.  Yuuji responded by latching on to him and holding him tight. 

           *          *          *

          "Brad?" Schuldig asked, only getting 'the wall' of white noise.

          "Fuck." Brad set the phone down. 

          Nagi and Farfarello put down thier forks in resignation and started to pick up thier plates to bug out.

           "Settle down," Brad growled. 

          "Well I'm disappointed." Schuldig murmured.

          "I've just been _dumped_ , and you people are making a joke of it!"

          Schudig stop chewing and looked at him, then remembered to swallow.  Then he dropped his fork in his plate and sat back. "I don't know whether to do the happy dance or be completely pissed off.  The bastard."

            "Please don't do the happy dance," Nagi said.  "It's just disturbing.  I don't want to be embarassed in front of Tot."

            "She's not even in the room, and she's certainly not psychic!  Eat your damned chicken." Schuldig picked up his glass of wine and contemplated throwing it, then had a swallow.  "So.  Are we still on for the end of the world Thursday?"

            "Oh, yes."  Brad had that evil look on his face again.  "And I'm going to make sure it takes Fujimiya Ran with it."

 

@            @            @            @            @           

 

Going Ploin Shaped: When despite all your superior weaponry, overwhelming percentage of troops on the field, and beautifully thought out tactics, Nature, or her evil twin sister, Fate, giggles and slings a monkey wrench into your gears.

 


End file.
